Another War For Your Textbooks
by The Konfessionist
Summary: Aimee's mental state is questionable as she battles the depression of her father's death. Charon must recount to their newest group member, Butch, all the hardships their Paragon of the Wastes had to endure after gaining possession of his contract. ***DISCONTINUED***
1. CHP 1: The Spectacle Group of Misfits

Aimee rolled over in her small bed, staring up at the ceiling with an exhaustion creeping into the bags under her eyes but she refused to sleep. She only shut them in small trials, and the moment she felt the nightmare inch into her mind, she snapped out of it.

Aimee knew she had to keep herself occupied to keep from drifting away into her subconscious thoughts. She grabbed her Pip-Boy from the metal desk and turned it on, staring at the time that beeped at her; it was two in the afternoon. She hurled her Pip-boy at the wall in anger before holding her head in her hands. Her short curly brown hair fell around her shaking fingers.

"Fuck I need a drink..." She wrapped the bed sheet around herself and opened her bedroom door, making her way down the metal stairs. The jukebox at the other end of the second floor blazed "Maybe" by The Ink Spots. This only pushed her deeper into the abyss of her already heartbreaking despair.

Fawkes sat at the wooden table placed in the middle of the first floor, eating Fancy Lads Cake Snacks and drinking Nuka-Cola. Dogmeat lay by his feet, sleeping peacefully, and Aimee had a newly discovered jealousy in her canine companion.

Charon and Butch were in the kitchen, fighting over the last bottle of whiskey.

She sighed. _Always fucking fighting about one thing or another… Actually, it's more one-sided. Charon's level-headed nature usually pisses Butch off more than the argument itself…_

"You jipped the Butch-Man of his last whiskey! This one's _mine_!"

"It was Poker. I won it fair and square." Charon replied in his raspy voice calmly.

"Tunnel Snakes don't take shit from nobody! I'm gonna-" He grabbed Charon roughly by the front of his leather armor, aiming to punch him in the face.

"Do what, Deloria?" Aimee asked tiredly from where she stood, leaning against the machinery that stood at the bottom of the stairs. It was there when she moved in, and she assumed it was for Wadsworth, who remained in sleep mode until she required him.

Everyone jerked their heads up towards her in shock. Even Dogmeat had somehow pulled himself out of his dreamland to look up to his owner. He whimpered at her sadly, his ears lowering on his head.

"Nothing…" Butch mumbled and immediately let go of Charon's armor and sat by Fawkes at the table with a childish pout on his face.

"Did we wake you?" Charon asked and walked towards her, handing her the last whiskey.

He could tell she needed it; he's been with her longer than Butch or Fawkes. Butch being an exception, because he was a complete tool to her all throughout their childhood. But irony was one step ahead of her, yet again, because here he was, sitting in her house in Megaton.

She grabbed the whiskey greedily and twisted the cap off, drinking straight from the bottle. The burn suited her just fine as it completely ripped herself from her tired atmosphere. She removed the bottle from her lips and wiped her mouth, shaking her head.

"Haven't slept for a long time, now. Don't worry about it Char-bear."

A short time after she bought Charon's contract from Ahzrukhal in the Underworld (and Charon blew his head off) she began calling him Char-Bear. His pet name was brewed from the fact that there was _some_ truth in what Azrukhal had said about the brain-washed ghoul; he was as cuddly as a teddy bear to his contract holder. Charon had no objection to it, but then again, he had no objection to anything she did.

Aimee sat at the table in front of Butch who gave her a strange look for the attire she was currently donning. Or lack thereof.

"Nothing there for you under these bed sheets, Butch, I suggest you move your eyes somewhere else." She said bluntly and took another deep gargle of whiskey, finding comfort in the dull burn at the back of her throat.

All of her companions knew she could hold her alcohol very well. Until you pissed her off of course. Her fists would fly, and they could guarantee you'd walk away missing a body part, or a fragment of your pride. A horny bar patron learned that the hard way in Rivet City's Muddy Rudder the last time the small group was there; Butch practically chewed her ears off to bloody stumps with how upset he was from getting kicked out of there with the rest of them.

"Maybe you should eat something?" Fawkes said with the best English she's ever heard from a Super Mutant. It sounded more like a concerned demand than a friendly suggestion, but all the same, he ushered the box of Fancy Lads towards the vault dweller turned lone wanderer.

Dogmeat sat up and placed his head on Aimee's exposed knee, licking the upside of her hand with a gentle tongue. She patted his head sweetly, scratching behind his ears with lazy fingers. She hated the way his eyes stared up at her, it reminded her of... Of...

Aimee jerked away from those sad dual-colored eyes and drank more. Butch got himself up from the table and went to the refrigerator, opening it up and poking his head inside, to see nothing but figurative cobwebs.

"We're outta food." He slammed the door shut in irritation and fixed his hair. "Fawkes took the last of it..."

"I'll go into town and get more." Aimee replied absent mindedly and handed the bottle to Charon for a quick sip.

"You said that the last time you came out of your room." The ghoul pointed out after passing the bottle to Butch. He grimaced at it, and thought better, so he grabbed a shot glass and drank from that instead.

"When was the last time I was out of my room?" She asked.

"Three days." Her companions chimed in unison, and she blinked at them all in shock.

Aimee didn't know she had been up there for _that_ long, she had suspected that it was only a day, or two at the most. But she knew the total time she spent up there was definitely longer than that; she would come and go from her room every few days and would only stay a few minutes to eat or drink before returning to the darkness of her bedroom.

Aimee sighed and ran her fingers through her thick curls. "Sorry guys… Let me go throw some clothes on and we'll go down to the Brass Lantern."

She slowly rose up from the table and walked up the stairs, Dogmeat following behind her loyally, snapping at her trailing bed sheets playfully.

Her mismatched companions held their breaths, and their tongues, until they heard the quiet slam of her door shutting and the familiar click of the lock. They looked at each other.

"Damn… She's really outta it, ain't she?" Butch began.

Fawkes chugged down the rest of his Nuka-Cola before adding on to the conversation.

"I have never seen her like this. It is very scary for me." He finished with short pauses in between every few words and he shook his head. "How long will she be like this?"

"Her old man _died_! You can't seriously think she's gonna be all cool and stuff after that?" Butch exclaimed.

"Keep your voice down _Tunnel Snake._" Charon hushed him with his arms crossed over his chest. "Aimee will hear you. Besides, Fawkes is just worried, he knows she's hurt."

"Man," Butch ran his fingers over his hair. "When we were kids, I never saw her like this. No matter how much I _bullied_ her she never acted like this."

"She is strong like that. But seeing her father leave, only a few hours after finding him, is the worst thing she has ever encountered." Fawkes picked up his trash and went to the kitchen to clean up his mess.

"You use to bully her?" Charon asked, his raspy voice turning curious as his yellow eyes turned shiny. He was in a defensive mode over Aimee once again.

Butch looked to the ghoul with wide eyes, afraid to answer the question lingering in the air.

Charon raised a partial eyebrow on his disfigured face. "Well?" He asked.

"I- uh, uhm…" Butch started.

"He used to, but now he is here to make up for what he did." Aimee's satin-smooth voice broke the awkward tension between the two males.

They both looked up to see Aimee on the staircase. She was no longer sporting a bed sheet, but a dirty white top that she tied around her stomach so it looked like a belly shirt. A leather jacket squared off her round shoulders, ripped denim shorts and knee-high leather boots made her short, strong legs look long and lean. She perched her biker goggles back up on her head, the only thing that was familiar to him.

Butch's eyes practically popped out of his head at the sight before her, for all his reaction was worth, she still could have been wearing her bed sheet for all she knew.

"A-Aimee? Where the fuck did you get _that_ get up?"

She slowly walked down step by step with heavy boots till she came to the table. She tried to hide the sadness, but they only swirled into little pools of misery in her steel grey eyes. The alcohol didn't make much of a dent in her declining mood and it showed.

"Pieced it together myself. I'm ready when you guys are." She looked up as Dogmeat trudged down the stairs, barking at her contentedly with his tail wagging behind him. He was happy that she was doing something other than drinking and lying in bed for days at a time.

Going back to Aimee's earlier statement, it was true. After Aimee revisited her home in Vault 101 and talked some sense into the too-high-on-his-pedestal-of-paranoia Overseer, Amata, being the _new_ Overseer, kicked out her childhood friend once she gained the new title. It hurt Aimee to no end, but she knew she had no choice, and left for the betterment of her home.

Soon after Butch sprung out of that place, after flipping everyone the bird of course, and he made his way through the Capital Wasteland to make a name for himself and hoped to raise the Tunnel Snakes once again. He came upon Rivet City and was there for about a month before he caught wind of a wedding between Gary's daughter Angela, who Butch thought was kinda cute, and some square named Diego from the church. He decided to go instead of drowning his caps away in booze and a bitchy Trinnie... And who just _happened_ to be there? None other than Aimee.

Truthfully, he was kind of happy to see her familiar face.

Upon seeing Butch she made his way over for a quick chat. All happy, and smiling, and shit. But before he could say "Tunnel Snakes rule!" her fist came hurdling into his face, effectively knocking him on his ass into unconsciousness. He only recalled two other times she physically hurt him.

One event happened at her 10th birthday party after he bugged her to give him her sweet roll because that stupid robot destroyed the only food they had to spare at that lame ass party. She spat on it, and then gave him a good uppercut to the side of his face. He didn't even _look_ at her for a week, mostly because his eye had swollen up on that side of his face, so he couldn't even if he wanted to.

The other event happened when the Tunnel Snakes began picking on Amata before the G.O.A.T. Butch remembered it all too well; Aimee told them to screw off, ending up in an all out fist fight of unfair odds of three men against one woman. Amata stood by, shrieking for all she was worth as Wally, Paulie, and himself began wailing on her. Or _tried_ to... Paulie came out of it with a broken nose, Wally had both eyes blackened and he had scratches all on his face and neck.

He was pissed that Aimee intervened and stood up for Amata. And all though he hated to admit it, he was surprised, and quite frankly shaken, that she could not only talk a good game but she could back it up with a mean hook to the jaw. She was capable of making grown men cry and tough pro-fighters look like sissies. She was damn lucky he still had a handsome face… Or so Nova said, anyways.

Fawkes emerged from the kitchen with a smile on his lips. "Can we get more Fancy Lads?"

Aimee chuckled a little and picked up a burlap sack resting beside her workbench, slinging it over her shoulder.

"Of course. I know you like them Fawkes." She opened up the door and they all rustled out, walking down the metal path with Aimee leading.

The mismatched group consisting of two humans, a gentle Super Mutant, a hushed ghoul, and a dog with each eye a different color had found comfort in each other. They found comfort in the fact that they each were different, and in some way, they understood each other in one way or another. They all understood that the other was just as alone as the next, and in this way, they would never have to be alone again.


	2. CHP 2: The Key is the Thing

**Author's Notes: Alrighty! I did NOT know how to go about Butch's character D: I know he isn't exactly the shiniest apple that fell out of the Deloria tree, but I kind of wanted him to have those moments where everything finally clicked together in his head, you know? Course you do :3 Anyways I hope you enjoy this second chapter! Don't be afraid to review about how much you enjoyed this chapter or to give me constructive criticism BUT DON'T BE A FRICKIN FLAMMER becase you think it's hysterical! Or you will become very good friends with Charon's combat shotgun 0 :3**

**So enjoy!**

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><p>"E-Excuse me?" A woman with skin the color of dark chocolate stopped the group. Or rather Aimee, to be more specific. "I wanted to give you something…For all the hard work you've done to help us."<p>

With that, the woman held out three stimpaks to Aimee, who smiled and took it graciously.

"It was nothing. I do what I can to make the lives of other's easier." She replied with a small smile.

The woman grinned from ear to ear and nodded. "T-Thank you!" Before taking off.

Butch scratched his head. "That was weird…"

"Get used to it Deloria." Charon looked over his shoulder at the Tunnel Snake. "Megaton settlers practically kiss her feet. She was the one that disarmed Megaton's bomb and foiled the plans of Mr. Burke and Tenpenny."

Butch's eyes widened once again. "_She_ did that? _Aimee_ did?"

Aimee slid her goggles down over her grey eyes to wrap around her neck and looked back at Butch with a smug look on her face.

"I've been doing quite well by myself, haven't I Butch?" There was that dent eating away at her depression. Glad to know poking fun at him made her happy.

He nodded as they continued making their way to the middle of town. Different people waved to her in appreciation, and it finally dawned on Butch that these people _idolized_ her. This town wasn't a shit hole like the other places he's seen. Like Canterbury Commons when they had to deal with those freaky 'superheroes', or that underground city of children back at Little Lamplight. He almost walloped a kid who kept calling him a stupid mungo, whatever that was. All he understood was stupid and it took Fawkes to hold him back from the poor sap.

The group pressed on towards the Brass Lantern, which seemed in the smack middle of town, aside the bomb that filled up a crater of dirty water. The townspeople noticed that Confessor Cromwell and Mother Maya took leave shortly after the lone wanderer turned their atomic bomb into a gigantic paperweight, but the followers of the Power of Atom had refused to relieve the bomb of its duties, and continued drinking its irradiated water like a bunch of crazies.

Aimee looked on behind the outdoor bar of the Brass Lantern to see that Jenny had her face buried deep into the fridge, Jericho taking that moment to relish the view he had of her perfect ass. He always hit on her and Nova, both of them always giving him the same answer; Screw off Jericho. That was actually Nova's exact words, Jenny happened to be a little more discreet.

Aimee coughed loudly, making the man jump in his bar stool and look up at her. A smile spread onto his slightly wrinkled face.

"Hey doll face. Haven't seen you around for a while, where 'ya been?"

"I've been around." She sat down next to him, dropping her bag on the floor next to her feet.

He chuckled deeply until his eyes met Butch's. They were giving each other cold, sharpened daggers like they had unfinished business of some sort.

_Butch and his stupid need to be the Alpha Dog… Not like anyone's gonna give him a fucking gold medal._

Jericho nodded to him. "Who's the kid?"

"That's Butch. A new companion of mine."

He whistled. "One that isn't a ghoul _or_ a Super Mutant? What's wrong with him, then?"

Aimee grinned and looked back at Butch. "Poor thing's as dumb as a rock. And hey! There's nothing wrong with Charon or Fawkes!"

They laughed together as Butch's face turned red in anger, which only made the pair laugh harder until Jenny came over to quiet them down.

"Aimee! So good to see you around here. Haven't seen that pretty face of yours for a while. You need anything?"

Aimee nodded and flung her bag onto the counter. "Gimme whatever you have. Fridge is out, and I got some growing boys in my house!" She chuckled lightly.

Jenny looked down at the woman in shock, as if she had grown a second head. "E-_Everything?_"

"Well, just enough to fill up a fridge and a soda machine." Aimee scratched her chin. "Fancy Lads and Nuka-Cola especially. Those are Fawkes' favorite." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the Super Mutant, who waved shyly to Jenny.

Both of her eyebrows rose up and she smiled, handing the bag back to Aimee. "Go inside and talk to Leo. He'll help you out."

Aimee nodded and thanked Jenny. She directed Fawkes and Butch to stay outside and keep an eye on Dogmeat, due to the fact that he sometimes chased the occasional creature that crawled through the middle of town, and Charon followed her inside. Leo was leaning against the wall behind the counter, bobbing his head quietly.

"Hey Leo. Long time no see, hey?" His head immediately jerked up, and he smiled to her.

"Hey! It's good to see a friendly face! Haven't seen you around here in a while, what can I do you for?"

"Running out of food. Could use a nice restock, I'll take all of your Fancy Lads and Nuka-Cola."

"Coming right up!" He immediately took off up the stairs, almost barreling over his older brother Andy in his giddy stupor.

Aimee took a seat in the empty eatery and Charon stood behind her, keeping a watchful eye on Andy, who had sauntered over. Charon did not like the eldest Stahl one bit; he was extremely rude to Aimee when she first came to Megaton, and had been no matter how good her reputation was with the entire Capital Wasteland. She was a fucking _hero_, for Christ's sake!

"Andy," She nodded her head to him.

"Hey, Aimee," He started a little awkwardly. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Sorry, already got company with me." She nodded her head up to Charon, and looked down at her nails, inspecting them carefully. "Besides there are tons of other seats for you to take. At _other_ tables."

"Look, I just wanted to say-" He slowly began lowering himself into a seat across from her, before Charon's hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder.

"I believe the lady said no." He answered in a dark tone, making Andy quiver under his tight grip.

"Charon, it's fine, he's harmless." Upon her command the ghoul released his shoulder, standing back in his usual place behind Aimee, arms crossed over his chest. Andy eyed his combat shotgun warily.

"As you were saying?" She tapped her nails down on the table impatiently, cradling her chin in her upturned palm on the table top and she crossed her legs.

"I just wanted to say… Well, Leo told me. About his addiction." Andy looked down into his lap like he was a child being scolded. Aimee raised an eyebrow at him, removing her chin from her hand with interest.

"He told me you talked some sense into him, and convinced him to talk to Jenny and me…" He looked back up to her with a certain kindness in his hard eyes that she had never seen before, and she tried not to look too astounded by his sudden change in character.

"Look, they're all I have left in this world, and knowing that you kept one of them safe… It means a lot to me, you know? So I wanted to repay you."

"Repay me? How?" She asked cheekily.

"Well… How about dinner?"

She could no longer contain her surprise, which had stunned her entire body as she raised her eyes to him.

"Dinner?" She repeated uncertainly in a quiet voice.

"Who do you think you are, you fucking rat bastard?" They all flinched in surprise and looked up to see Butch standing by the counter, his fists clenched at his sides. Aimee got up from her seat.

"Butch? I told you to wait outside." She strolled over to him.

The hot-headed Deloria ignored her. "Treatin' her like shit than asking her out for dinner? Thinkin' you're gonna get lucky, _huh_ asshole?"

She grabbed Butch by the front of his leather jacket and jerked his face down towards hers; he could see the frustration building up like thick brick walls behind the neutral color of her eyes.

"What are you _doing_ here, Deloria?" She asked sharply.

Butch pulled back and straightened his jacket out. He knew he was beginning to try her patience whenever she called him by his last name.

"Some pricks came through town and started hasslin' Fawkes. They're throwing rocks at him and shit."

"What?" Aimee cried with wide eyes as she pushed Butch aside and darted out of the restaurant.

Making her way outside, she found Fawkes curled up against the outside bar as two guys threw rocks at him, laughing like they were crazy. She assumed they were Raiders from how dirty they were, and how she could already smell them from where she was standing.

"Hey!" She exclaimed, picking up a rock and throwing it at them.

The rock hit the taller one square in the face, sending him sprawling back into the dirty water the bomb was rested in. He sat up and sputtered out the putrid liquid as blood trickled down his forehead and dripped off into the water from the tip of his nose.

Aimee picked up another rock, tossing it up into the air and catching it repeatedly with her broad hip cocked out, her hand gripping it firmly as she gave the Raider still standing a death glare.

"I believe you are picking on a friend of mine. You are in _my_ town right now jackass, so get the _fuck_ out while your balls are still intact!"

The Raider remained frozen in place as if he was faced with a difficult decision. Either leave, and die out there, or stay, and die by the hands of a woman. What to decide, what to decide…

Aimee cried out as a third Raider came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides as he lifted her up off the ground. They wrestled for a bit before she finally freed one of her hands and grabbed his, flinging him over her shoulder so he went flying into the frozen Raider. Both of them collapsed into the dirty water with their injured friend.

She pointed to the exit gate of Megaton. "Get the _fuck_ out of my town!" She screamed, throwing more rocks at them.

They stumbled across one another, running off in an "Every Man for Themselves" frenzy as they exited the town quickly, Dogmeat barking and snarling at them all the way up the path. The settlers knew the sheriff, Lucas Simms, would be happy knowing he wouldn't have to waste precious ammo on some low-life scum.

Aimee walked over to Fawkes and inspected his wounds. Only a few cuts to his arms, from trying to shield himself against the rocks she assumed, and a nasty gash on his forehead.

"Th-Thank you Aimee." He replied in a shaky voice. "I did not want to hurt them. I did not want people to think I was bad, like my brethren Super Mutants."

"No, no, you're not bad Fawkes… You should have defended yourself." She turned to Jenny for a clean cloth as Butch walked out of the restaurant, scratching the back of his head with Charon holding onto the nape of his jacket collar with a firm hand.

"He tried to get into a fist fight with Andy Stahl after you left to help Fawkes." Charon announced evenly, reluctant to let go of his leather collar just yet.

"Charon, help clean up Fawkes' wounds. I need to have a private talk with Deloria," He nodded and went to Fawkes as Aimee took Butch's hair in a death grip, hauling him towards the backside of the bomb and up the staircase to the church of Atom. She was glad no one was inside, and slammed the door shut.

"Ow! Ow! Hey, easy! Watch the hair!" He finally pried her fingers from his black curls and ran his fingers through them gently, trying to fix his hairdo. "What I do?"

"What the _hell _is your problem Deloria?" She asked angrily.

"What the _hell_ did I do?" He retorted again.

"One night, all we had was _one_ night! You can't let that go, can you? You're not my fucking boyfriend!"

He gawked at her in genuine bewilderment. She was pissed that he was _protecting_ her from that asshole Andy Stahl? Honestly?

"You think it's 'bout _that?_ We were both fucking drunk! I don't even _remember_ most of it! That Stahl guy is a complete dick, and _you_ were gonna go out with him?" He yelled.

Aimee's brow furrowed with rage and she narrowed her eyes at him. He felt like the most insignificant thing in the _universe_ right now, and he always hated it when she looked at him like that. It made him feel exposed; like she could see straight through him. When he gave her that look, he wasn't the Serpent King of the Tunnel Snakes. He was just _Butch_. It made him feel insecure.

"_I wasn't!_" She bellowed. "He wanted to _thank_ me for helping his little brother Leo! Before I found you in Rivet City I helped Leo with an addiction he had to Jet and some other drugs. He didn't know how else to repay me for saving his little brother!"

Queue drum roll; what a coincidence! He knew he had made an ass out of himself, _again_, and he came out of it with his pride smashed to smithereens. _Again._

He took deep breaths of seething anger in himself as she brushed past him to the door. But all of it seemed to melt away as her scent lingered in the air around him; all though they spent days, _weeks_ even out there battling monster after monster and dumbass after dumbass, she always had a sweet scent to her.

"Don't tell me it's not about that, Butch Deloria…" Her sweet voice dropped to a quiet whisper in the now silent room. He looked back at her over a leather-clad shoulder.

"Don't tell me it's not about that night we had. Drunk or not, ever since then you've been overly protective of me. The old Butch wouldn't be acting this way." She stated.

Butch shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and smirked at her.

"Maybe I'm just doin' this to get my stupid debt with you over with." He responded in a brash tone.

Aimee recoiled back from him and closer to the door as if he had slapped her, and he knew that he said something wrong. His eyes widened at the late realization he had and outstretched a hand towards her.

"Aimee, look, I didn't mean-" His hand rested on her shoulder gently.

She quickly slapped it away and looked up to him with fury coming to a boil in the green flecks of her watering, now cold, eyes.

"Is that what that night was, too? Just to get your rocks off and get closer to paying off this fucking figurative debt to me?"

Now that, _that_ hurt, they both knew that he made a complete ass of himself all through the time they spent growing up. But to even _hear_ that she thought so poorly of him… What had he done to make her think that he would drop so low?

Yeah, he said a _few_ sexual things to Amata during the bully sessions he had during their teenage years, but he never meant any of them, both girls knew it. He never had a girlfriend growing up; mostly because by the time they were toddlers all the girls in the Vault knew he was destined to be a garbage burner by the time the infamous G.O.A.T's rolled around. But he became a _laughing_ stock when he walked out of that classroom as a _hairdresser!_

He'd be God damned if he told Aimee that she was the first girl he's kissed. His reputation would be _fucked_ if she knew he was the first girl he slept with when it was obvious he wasn't _her_ first time. His pride was already wounded knowing that two of the greatest things to ever happen in his life happened while he was intoxicated, and he could not remember most of what had happened in either situation. Only bits and pieces from dreams is what he could recall, and from those bits and pieces, he woke up in a hot sweat with a tent under the covers in the region south of the equator.

"I forgave you a long time ago Butch. I don't give two shits about this fucking _debt _thing you have going on. I'm taking Fawkes home to make sure he's okay. Come back whenever you feel like, but do it quietly." She said with a tinge of gloom to her tone.

Aimee underhanded something small at him, and due to his slow reflexes, it hit him in the chest and landed on the ground. He picked it up and recognized it as one of the spare keys to her house. Charon had one, implying that she only gave it to trusted companions since he's been around the longest. She gave one to Fawkes, too, but he broke it on accident.

When Butch looked up to thank her, maybe question her giving of the key, the door was open, and she was all ready gone.

Didn't he have the right to be upset at her? He thought as he looked down to the key in his open hand.

_No… I don't._ He looked up to the open door and flopped back onto a pew to think in silence.

But he thought that he had gained the right to protect her after that night. I mean, he was the older one; they were sort of like brother and sister, right?

_Some fucked up brother-sister relationship we got goin' on right here, if that's the case._ He thought as he ran his fingers over the nicks and indentations in the brass of the key.

He thought he had earned some right after sleeping with her. What was it? Fucking? Making love? Sexing her up? He had no clue. There was no emotion in that equation, so it must have equaled E=MCFucked because if anything, _she_ sexed _him_ up, sad as it was to admit even to himself.

If he had gained any right at all what was it? A closer bond, to be over protective of her, or maybe give them something to kid about when they were in private. Had had gained none of the above, and he should have been happy with the simple fact that she acknowledged they slept together and no one else knew.

It gave him a bit of a thrill to have a secret that they didn't know, just like they seemed to have secrets with her that the rest of them didn't know. Fawkes had secrets with her, Charon had secrets with her, and he was sure that even _Dogmeat_ had some secrets with her with all that weird mutt-telepathy she had.

Aimee was _definitely_ not like the stuck up girls with the lame personalities and the nice asses back at Vault 101. She was passionate, smart, brave, and he had to hand it to her, she was as stubborn as a Brahmin.

_Not to exclude the fact that she **does** have a nice ass… _He thought with a silly grin on his face.


	3. CHP 3: All I Wanted

**Author's Notes: HEY! Yeah, hey _you! _This chapter features smut from the get-go, coarse language, and the shoving of combat shotguns into Butch's face, _THUS_ being Rated M! So if you prefer your fanfics to be smut free, please, save yourself and leave _now_. (Mind you, I've mentioned somewhere before that I suck at writing love scenes such as this, along with battle scenes... But whatever! It's your call!)**

**So enjoy what I've written, and if you have a moment, please take the time to drop a lovely review for yours truly~ (Flamers are NOT welcome here!)**

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><p><em>Moaning and heavy pants echoed through the small room, and if anyone had been watching and had known the awkward couple, they would have believed that they had somehow entered into a twisted realm of contradictions.<em>

"_B-Butch!" Aimee cried between gasps, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she rode the writhing, slightly muscle-built body below her. _

_He clutched her hips firmly with bruising strength, like he was trying to find something steady to hold onto as she sent him farther and farther away from here, farther away than he had ever gone before. Was he still in the Capital Wasteland?_

_His hips rocked and bucked underneath her like the rough waves of an oncoming tide. He hadn't done this before but his animalistic instincts had taken over like he __**had**__ done this a million times. Moments ago he was too tired, and quite frankly too horny, to argue with the stubborn brunette over who was on top._

_It was apparent to both sides that she had much more experience in the bedroom than he had anyways._

_Besides, he liked the view he had as her body moved in rhythm to his thrusting, the way her curves seemed to fit into his like a glove. _

_Butch pressed Aimee's body closer as he sat up underneath her and wrapped her strong legs around his waist. She snaked her arms around his neck and ensnared him in a deep kiss that created one of the final shoves over his edge as she continued pumping her body up and down on his manhood._

_No words were exchanged between the partners. All they needed was Butch's throaty groans and Aimee's quick whimpers and quiet moans as they kept pace with one another, and as drunk as he was, he could feel her heart racing in sync with his._

_He could feel her lady folds tighten and clench around him, she was just about there, and saw her mouth open and close as if she were trying to scream something. But this is where the dream would end._

Butch jolted awake on his mattress in another sweaty heap and bundle of tangled blankets. The dream _always_ ended like that, right before she would moan his name and ride out the rising waves of her orgasm. How had he known what happened after that, when all he knew was what happened in the dreams?

He quietly groaned in frustration at the tent-shape that formed in his blankets and he flopped back onto the mattress to stare up at the ceiling. After coming in, making sure he hadn't woken up Fawkes or Charon (he made that mistake once after coming back in a ruckus at three in the morning and became acquainted with Charon's combat shotgun pressed against his junk) he pulled out his mattress and stripped down to nothing but his boxers and fell asleep. The house was too hot to sleep in a jumpsuit and leather jacket.

_We gotta get a bigger place soon… This fuckin' house smells like rotting flesh and mutt ass._

He was too use to the non-irradiated food, the conditioned air, and the safe steel walls of the Vault he escaped from. He'd come back once in a while to visit, and make trouble for Amata as the new Overseer, but he soon noticed that his plans had to change. If Aimee couldn't go back, and all though she never said he couldn't go back, he wasn't going back either.

_It would be unfair to her…_ He thought before his eyelids snapped open. _Wait, what the __**fuck**__ do I care about what's fair for her?_

Butch cradled his head in his arms as he closed his eyes to fall back asleep. But he couldn't, and he didn't know why.

_She's pissed at me. It's obvious I said somethin' wrong. But… The key…_

Butch fingered the key on the long piece of twine around his neck. He got it from Gob up at Moriarty's Saloon, mostly because he knew he lost things pretty damn easily, and this way he'd always have it on him.

He cursed himself at whatever he said to her, which seemed like one giant ass blur in his mind right now. Just like whatever fragments his dream hadn't shown him; like how the two had ended up in that damned bed in the first place.

The only thing he knew was that he was drunk off his ass, they _both_ were, and when they woke up that morning with splitting headaches they were cuddled up close to each other. Naked. The way she looked at him sent his heart into little spasms of flutters. Of course, it was ruined the moment she realized it was _Butch _and not Freddie Gomez or whatever_,_ and she beat what little sense he had with her pillow.

_For a pillow, it still hurt like a bitch..._ He let out a throaty chuckle and a little smirk at the memory.

Where had they been anyways when it happened? When _they_ happened if that was even a rational question? He couldn't remember. There were so many places they traveled to, he lost track. Maybe it was Paradise Falls in Eulogy Jones' love nest after she decapitated him, maybe it was Underworld in Carol's Place, or maybe it was here in Megaton, in Aimee's bed...

Butch shuddered in a strange manner at the thought of his last bit of innocence being taken in the room just a few feet from his mattress. He needed a manlier word for virginity; after all, the Tunnel Snake's didn't use sissy words like that. He needed something a little more masculine for the term.

He looked up at the closed door to the room he might have lost the last bit of his child-like side; or the door that he _thought_ was closed...

The entrance to Aimee's room was open just a crack with Dogmeat laying in front of it, belly to the sky, tongue hanging out between his lips and a sleepy twitch in his paws. A small source of light creeped through the little gap of the open door, and he was curious as to why she was up so late, if it was late at all. He crawled over on his hands and knees to look through the opening, and he couldn't exactly put an emotion or a feeling as to what he came across.

Aimee was sitting at her desk in nothing but a long shirt and boxers for pajamas. The clothes hung loose around her thin frame, hugging the curves of her breasts and sides just perfectly and her hair was a disheveled mess of curls as she ran her short fingers through it. In her other hand a lit cigarette was held between two trembling fingers, and many more butts were scattered inside an ash tray close by. Her body shook as she knocked back a vodka shot and pressed a button on her Pip-Boy with an unwilling finger, the sound of a Holodisk shattering the silence in the tense room.

"Well, here we are again. Project Purity and me." A deep, kind voice emerged from the Holodisk.

Butch's eyes widened upon hearing the familiar voice. _That sounds like her old man! What the fuck's a Project Purity?..._

"It's been close to twenty years since my last entry. Since I left all of this behind to make a life for my daughter... We spent all that time in Vault 101, tucked away from the rest of the world. It wasn't perfect, but it was safe, and that's all I could have hoped for. Now, my daughter is a grown woman,"

Butch watched with an anxious feeling knotting in his midsection as Aimee took more heaping chugs of vodka, inhaling smoke from her cigarette like she could have replaced it with the air she needed for the rest of her life. He could see her begin to sever herself from the reality she wanted to have absolutely _nothing_ to do with anymore. The reality he needed her to stay in for him... But how could he ever blame her for wanting to leave?

"Beautiful, intelligent, confident..." James' voice continued to sing sadly.

"N-No...Don't say it... Just- don't..." Aimee mumbled to herself in a voice that wasn't at all hers.

Somewhere down the line, she was hiding the fact that she wasn't strong anymore; she was fractured, completely _broken_ if Butch dared go into that far of a description. The way she spoke made it sound like she listened to her father's empty voice a hundred times in that recording, and every time she wished he had said something different, something that could have kept her going on as the stubborn broad that she is.

"Just like her mother." His voice finished sadly.

The stubborn broad that she _was..._

Her shoulders arched and bobbed as her flood gates broke and she sobbed to the last words of her late father's recorded voice. _"And as hard as it was to admit it, she doesn't need her daddy anymore..."_

"Wh-Who said I didn't f-fucking need you? Who s-said you could le-leave me all alone?" Aimee whispered menacingly between sobs and another swig of vodka. She was trying to choke back her frustration and her anger in the world, but the vodka certainly wasn't helping.

"All I wanted was to have my father back!" She screeched and shoved her chair away into a tense topple, flinging the bottle against the wall.

The glass exploded into sharp pieces and rained onto the floor, the alcohol seeping out from under the door and the cool sensation awoke Dogmeat if the sound of shattering didn't. He jumped up and shook the liquor off from his fur, pressing his muzzle into her room to see what was happening.

The lights turned on downstairs and Charon was already running up them two by two, combat shotgun in hand, his eyes turned ominous upon seeing Butch on the floor in nothing but boxers and a horrified look on his pallid face. Charon grabbed a fistful of his black hair and shoved the shotgun into his face.

"What did you do to her?" He yelled at the cringing Serpent King.

"I-I didn't do nothin'! Honest to God!" He tried to remove Charon's hand, but that only made him tighten his grasp.

Aimee's door slowly swung opened and Dogmeat backed away from her with his head hung low. Even Charon stepped back from her as he finally let go of Butch's hair with an expression none of them had ever seen in his lucid eyes before; he was panicking.

She stared at the floor with the neck of the vodka bottle in her hand like a weapon, the jagged angles dripping wasted alcohol and crimson blood. She had cut her hands from picking up the glass, and when she walked past them, she left tiny bloody footprints on the cold metal of the floor. She cut her feet on the glass as well but none of her wounds seemed to faze her.

"Aimee?" Fawkes looked down at her as she slowly drifted down the stairs in an unconscious trance.

"Need more booze... Helps me sleep..." She mumbled to him as she entered the small kitchen.

"Damnit..." Charon murmured and lowered his shotgun away from Butch's face.

"Is she commencing self-harm Charon?" Fawkes asked with a deep concern in his voice as he walked towards them, helping Butch up from the floor.

"S-She was listening to Holotapes... From her old man." Butch replied quietly, earning a wrathful glare from Charon.

"What were you doing listening to something private like that?" He snapped.

"Hey man, I woke up and saw her door was open! I looked in and she was cryin' and shit listening to some recording with her old man's voice on it. He said somethin' 'bout a Project Purity. What the fuck is that?"

Charon and Fawkes looked to each other with a certain look in their eyes, as if they had known something he didn't... They _did_ know something he didn't!

"What's goin' on?" Butch demanded with his hands balled up on his sides. "Tell me God damnit!"

"Ever wonder why James left in the first place?" Charon asked calmly.

Butch twitched a little at the question. He never thought about it, actually... All he knew was that a lot of shit went down the night the door of Vault 101 was opened. It was like everything bad the Overseer had tried to repress into the thick walls were exposed and unleashed. Fires broke out everywhere, the Radroach infestation seemed to boom before everyone's eyes as they bit and jumped on people, so many people died...

_Paulie..._

He also knew that everyone was mad. Amata wasn't though, she knew she couldn't blame Aimee's father, but at the time Butch could. And he certainly did. He was mad too, but then again, it was because it was Aimee's father. If it was anyone else's dad he wouldn't have given a flying rat's ass about the door being opened. In fact, he would have bought the man an entire fucking liquor cabinet with all the expensive booze in it.

_Maybe it was because, growing up, I never had a father... He just died one day._ Butch thought solemnly.

_He wasn't old or nothin', just real sick, and when he was gone ma just started drinkin' her troubles away... Yeah, sure, got hurt from time to time as she went on her whiskey rampages, but I let her because she needed a way to let go of all the anger and pain that she felt..._

Somewhere along his childhood, he accepted that it was life to be hurt by another person. He became a bully to Aimee to release his anger on to _somebody_. Aimee didn't deserve it, but at the time he was a kid, and all his jealous thoughts seemed to circle around everything she had that he didn't, but desperately wanted.

It took him so long to comprehend something. All though he had a mother, and his father died when he was five, Aimee never even _met_ her mother. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much, never knowing someone and they died, but the connection between a mother and her little girl was sacred; there was pain somewhere in her.

Charon sighed, breaking Butch's train of thought. "From that stupid look on your face I'm guessing you don't know the real reason why?"

Butch glared at the ghoul sharply.

"I thought so, it-" The echo of a door slamming shut escaped into the tiny house, cutting Charon off mid-sentence and Fawkes looked over the banister with drained eyes.

"Aimee just left." He clarified for the two and went to the Nuka-Cola machine, which was completely filled with his favorite soft drink before the evening had gotten too dark and quiet. He sat and drank quietly, with Dogmeat by his feet in a daze of drowsy whimpers.

"Probably went to get more booze..." Charon responded with a shake of his head, and he looked up to Butch. "I don't know much from before I met Aimee, so I can really only tell you what I experienced after she bought my contract."

"Your _contract?_" Butch sniggered. "What are you? Some body guard for hire?"

He could see the ghoul's finger twitch on the trigger of his combat shotgun, and immediately stifled himself. What he had said wouldn't have been an insult, to anybody but Charon.

"I was at first. I am loyal to whoever holds my contract. But, after..." Charon looked away from Butch, staring at the cracks in the walls, maybe counting the bolts that held the flooring together, or reminiscing through moments as the seconds passed.

"_After_, what?" Butch raised an eyebrow at him. "She dump you or somethin'?"

His head turned right round and he glowered down at the young adult before him.

"If she dumped me I wouldn't _be_ here, now would I? Besides, that's a term that you would use for lovers, correct? We were _never_ lovers..." He growled before mumbling; "_Idiot..._"

"After Aimee's father died she ripped up Charon's contract and let it float to the wind. Forgotten, forever." Fawkes finished for the ghoul who had lost his tongue for a moment.

"What for?" Butch asked, now interested in it. "You coulda left since she tore it up. You were free! I woulda booked my ass outta there!"

"A smoothskin like you would have done that," He grimaced at Charon in irritation. "But what she did was different."

Butch could see something change in the ghoul's face. It was difficult to pick up any emotion, mostly because any distinguishable features he should have had were eaten away by radiation long ago, he could only pick up little hints of feelings in his usually hardened eyes. But with how long he had been traveling with the small group, he was getting better at reading Charon. Mostly because of Aimee...

"What she do?" He asked, settling back onto his mattress after what felt like forever and a day.

"She gave me a choice. She pulled out my contract, looked me in the eyes, and while tearing it up she said; "Charon, you're a free man now. You can choose to stay, or you can choose to go. But whatever you may choose I want you to know that you are more than a scrap of paper. You are my closest friend, and no matter what path you take, I give you all the happiness I could have."

As Charon spoke, recounting every word Aimee said, Butch heard truth in the words. It was Aimee all right... From what he heard about this Ahzrukhal guy he wasn't exactly the bee's knees, and Aimee buying his contract was a freaking God given miracle. Charon didn't see it that way until later down the road. At the beginning it was just another business contract and nothing more.

"She said I was a free _man_." He looked down on Butch, his arms folding over his chest again. "Not a free ghoul. No one else would have said that. No one but her."

Butch saw Charon in a completely different view now. He was cold when he first met, and as far as he knew Charon never liked him from the day then on, mostly because he gave the Tunnel Snake a swift kick to the gut and cracked three of his ribs... Which reminded the him that he still had to get back at the ghoul, but that could wait till later. Charon wasn't so...Detached, anymore. Had he slowly showed himself with comfort over time? Or did Aimee find a way to create that side in the emotionless creature?

"Back to what I was saying earlier," Charon interrupted his train of thoughts again. "Project Purity."

"Yeah!" Butch exclaimed. "What is it?"

"It may be best if you start, from the very beginning, Charon." Fawkes suggested sleepily from where he sat, petting Dogmeat's head with a lackluster hand.

He nodded and looked back to Butch. "Back from when I met Aimee. It was a little over a year ago, the ghouls of the Underworld were in a frenzy over a newcomer amongst them. Everyone in the Ninth Circle talked about it. Ahzrukhal took no interest in her until he discovered she was a little smoothskin with a bundle of caps in a lunchbox..."


	4. CHP 4: Fluffy Pugs With Mini Guns

**HELLO ALL! This is the start of Charon's explaining of Aimee to Butch, a very long flashback, if you will. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please, don't hesitate to leave a review! ^^ (They equal love ya know o:!)**

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><p>Aimee fell through the double doors of the large, destroyed building with a pretty ghoul collapsed in front of her. She slammed the door shut and put her weight against it, locking it tight as Super Mutants slammed heavy fists against it, screaming that they were going to eat her flesh and use her bones as toothpicks.<p>

Scavenging through the ruins she found Super Mutants scattered every which way over the bunkers and tunneled pathways through the deeper part of D.C. Running for cover, a ghoul in front of a deserted building had gotten in the crossfire of their gunfight and was injured. Aimee ran back to get her to safety.

She slid down the door into an exhausted panting mound on the tiled floor. She looked down to the ghoul who held her injured shoulder with blood dripping through her boney fingers. She had patches of bright red hair framing the crown of her head and sad brown eyes.

"Thanks tourist. You didn't really have to worry about me, Super Mutants don't bother us ghouls." She slowly pushed herself up off the floor. "Probably think we're family or something."

Aimee shook her head and crawled towards the woman, ushering her hand away to see the damage of the wound. It wasn't too bad, just grazed her shoulder.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't going back to get you." Aimee responded with a kind smile as she sifted through her burlap bag for anything that could help.

"That's very kind of you…" She replied in a raspy voice. "What's your name?"

"Aimee," She finally found what she had been searching for, and after cleaning the woman's wound as best she could, she bandaged it. "I don't have any stimpaks to use on you… Ran out of 'em when I was battling those Mutants."

"Don't worry about it." She slowly got up from the floor all the while admiring her new wrapping. "I'm Willow by the way. Welcome to D.C. tourist."

"Tourist?" Aimee tied her bag shut and flung it over her shoulder. "I'm not a tourist…"

"You came here to take in the sights, right? Maybe find a cute little souvenir from scavenging... You also got shot up by the locals." Willow turned back to her with a smile on her face. "Face it. You're a tourist honey."

Aimee laughed merrily with Willow. Her smile and laughter slowly began to die and drift away from her as she walked towards a desk in the middle of the room, setting her stuff down and flopping into a wheeled chair.

"Well, I'm absolutely _fucked_…" She sighed.

"What do you mean?" Willow asked, standing next to her.

"Mutant's aren't that bright, but they can be patient at times. I ran out of stimpaks, I'm almost out of shells for Samuel, too…" She voiced as she ran her fingers through her short hair; she had recently cut it all off.

Her brown curls were once to her lower back, and it was pretty, but it would usually get in the way of her battles. She was grateful for her mousy nose, small stature, voluptuous curves and big, almond shaped eyes because people could have mistaken her for a boy if it wasn't for them.

A Raider did, once, and she taught him a lesson.

_I also taught that fucking bastard how girls shoot. We aim for the crotch. Unluckily for him I had Samuel with me._

"Samuel? He a smoothskin friend of yours?" Willow asked as she rolled up a seat next to her.

"Nah, he's my combat shotgun!" Aimee pulled it out of her bag with a triumphant grin. "Elaine's a pea shooter compared to him."

"Elaine?" She raised the muscle above her eye inquisitively. She didn't have any eyebrows.

"My 10mm Submachine gun..." This caused Willow to burst out in dry laughter. "I name my weapons, so what!" She cried in embarrassment.

"C'mon tourist, I know where you can restock." She grabbed Aimee by the arm, grabbed her bag by its straps, and flung it against her stomach.

"Oof!" Aimee cried out as a heavy object in the burlap bag nailed her in the gut like a baseball bat as Willow dragged her away.

_I just __**knew**__ that taking that vacuum cleaner part was a bad idea...The freaking thing weighs ten pounds!_

"Where are we going?" She asked once Willow slowed down a bit to push open heavy double doors.

They came into a wide room with a very tall ceiling. Bones of a gigantic creature laid to pieces on its pedestal, while another large animal with tusks and shaggy brown fur was mounted on the pedestal to its side. Aimee stopped for a moment to stare at it curiously, touching the long thing that snaked from the middle of its face.

_It looks like a..._ She rubbed the tip of her nose with the pads of her fingers. _A weird nose... Did they have creatures like this before the war?_

"Underworld." Willow replied with a smirk, motioning towards the mouth of a skull mounted up on the wall on the far side of the room. More doors were used to line the mouth like overbearing teeth.

"Underworld?..." Aimee repeated and followed her new friend.

Two barrels were lit with dancing orange flames, illuminating their shadows that danced across the face of the skull, making it look even more ominous to Aimee. She didn't scare easy, that was for sure, but she sometimes got nervous when she was tearing through a new place. Mostly because she didn't know what would be waiting for her inside.

Willow flung the door open and strolled inside. Aimee followed to be surrounded in a half circle of ghouls.

Her grey eyes widened. "A city of ghouls?... This deep into D.C.?" She mumbled to herself.

The fiery-red haired ghoul looked back to her with a smile on her face.

"Welcome to Underworld, tourist."

"A smoothskin? In Underworld?" A ghoul with an interesting hue of blue-green rotting flesh stepped towards the newcomer.

_He's wearing a RobCo suit… Haven't seen one of those in a while._

"What is this place?" She asked, looking around the wide room she stepped into.

The floors were black chipping marble, pillars reached to the ceiling and over the ghoul's shoulder Aimee saw a strange black statue of people crawling over one another towards the sky. Most of the statue was missing, and intricate details had faded with age as the material lost its shine.

_It's like those people are trying to escape from somewhere..._ She thought with a cold shiver down her spine.

"_Underworld._" The ghoul repeated again. How many times were they going to have to tell her? "A safe haven for us ghouls. I'm goin' to assume you already met our fluffy little guard dogs?"

Aimee's brow furrowed uncertainly. "Little? _Fluffy?_ I don't think you got the memo honey, but your litter of puppies were packing some serious heat! Mini guns and Fat Man's to be exact."

He laughed at the look she gave him. "They didn't have that the last time I was out there!"

_And when was that? Thirty years ago?_ She thought with an irritated sigh.

"Sorry about the welcome wagon smoothskin. They don't bother us, so we kinda forget that they're out there sometimes. They keep away slavers and raiders, most of them don't like comin' so deep into D.C. anyways, so it works out just fine." He admitted.

_Smoothskin? How many times have I been called that already?_

"What's a...Smoothskin?" She asked a little apprehensively.

"Smoothskin?" Willow chuckled deeply from behind her. "You know, 'cause your skin is so smooth. Unlike ours."

"Oh. That makes sense." Aimee scratched her head at her stupidity.

"...And tasty..." The RobCo clad ghoul finished, licking his non-existent lips.

She cocked an eyebrow at him and put her hands on her hips.

"Relax! I'm just joshing 'ya. But, I had you going for a moment there, didn't I?"

Aimee smiled a little at him. He had a strange sense of humor, and she liked that.

"I'm Winthrop by the way, nice to meet 'ya. You a friend of Willow's?" He nodded to her as she walked past Aimee, his eyes widening as they gazed down to her bandages.

"What happened to you?"

She stopped and looked down to her injured shoulder.

"Well, when the Mutant's began chasing Aimee like she was a walking Happy Meal I got caught in the middle. It just grazed my shoulder, don't worry about it brother."

Aimee blinked. "Brother?" She asked aloud.

Winthrop nodded and sniggered. "Can't you see the resemblance?" He asked sarcastically.

She giggled until her eyes fell upon Willow again. "This is my fault that she was injured. Is there a clinic, maybe a doctor around? I want to make sure she's okay..."

"You don't need to worry about Willow, she knows her way 'round Underworld. She's a tough ghoulette." He replied as Willow walked past him, but not before punching him in the shoulder playfully.

"Eh! I need that arm! It's my only good one, the other one fell off last week!" He laughed as she walked away.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to have a look around Underworld. Got any traders? Maybe some place I can get a bed at?" Aimee asked politely.

"You wanna trade, talk to Tulip, she runs Underworld Outfitters. Doesn't get much business though..." He said thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin. "You can get a bed at Carol's Place upstairs. There's also Doc Barrows in the Chop Shop,"

Aimee raised both her eyebrows at the name of the clinic.

"It's a lot more professional than it sounds," He assured her. "Don't worry you're pretty little head. Oh! If you're a drinker, hell who _ain't_ now a days, know what I mean? Go upstairs to the Ninth Circle. Run by a shifty ghoul named Ahzrukhal."

"What's shifty about him?" She asked inquisitively.

Winthrop motioned her closer and whispered in a low tone as if he was revealing some deep, dark secret.

"He practically feeds off the misery of others, using them to get more money into those deep pockets of his. Sells tons of booze and chems... Be careful 'round him, all right?"

Aimee nodded. "Got it, thanks for the tip Winthrop."

He smiled and pulled back from her. "Don't mention it. Enjoy your stay in Underworld, just... Try not to shoot the place up? We got a nice little thing goin' on down here and we'd like to keep it that way."

He turned and walked away as the rest of the ghouls began to disband, once in a while staring over their shoulders at her like she was an alien. She probably was from the way they reacted when she walked through the door with Willow.

She watched as ghouls walked by her, giving her cold glances and unwelcomed stares, whispering amongst each other such things as "Damn smoothskins, think they own the place…" One went even as far as going up to her and saying "Hope the smell isn't too strong for you."

Yup. Real friendly bunch.

But now, with roles reversed, maybe she could see from their point of view. If Aimee was anything, one thing she _wasn't_ was a bigot. She enjoyed their company, because they were a lot more good-natured and kind hearted, probably from the hardships they faced from humans.

_But it's not like we could understand… How painful it was, emotionally and physically, to be turned away from people. They're still people with feelings..._

Aimee was sad to admit that she could only imagine what it was like to be in their place. She wanted to tell at least one of them that she understood, but she was certainly in no position to say so.

She sighed and squeezed the bridge of her nose, her temples pulsing with an oncoming headache.

_Enough thinking… I need a glass of wine and a nice place to sleep._

And so, she trudged heavy feet up marble steps, pushing the door open to the Ninth Circle and the crooked grin of a greedy ghoul who dressed quite nicely for his morbid living conditions.


	5. CHP 5: And Then I Met You

**This is the fifth chapter for Another War For Your Textbooks! I hope you enjoy :D Reviews equal love, whether they hold constructive criticism or affection for this chapter, they help :3 But don't be flamming unless you bring up a VALID POINT, and you're not trying to be a tool ;D**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>Aimee slowly ambled into the Ninth Circle. She knew she was probably going against Winthrop's warnings of the ghoul that owned the bar, but she needed a drink, and she needed it now. She always partook in fruitier things, like Nuka-Cola and wine; whiskey was too much and vodka made her gag. Don't even get her <em>started<em> on scotch.

Upon pushing through the doors and looking around, the bar was close to empty. Chairs and tables stood neatly in their places of consecutive circles and only a few ghouls sat at the chairs, but once they saw her smoothskin face, they grumbled and grabbed their drinks to leave.

Aimee groaned inwardly and looked around once more. She nodded politely to a ghoul wiping down the counter, and turned to take a seat, but had stopped when she saw movement in the shadowed corner. She froze and slowly lowered her hand to finger the handle of her combat knife from her boot hem.

"That wouldn't be wise." The corner warned, and out stepped a behemoth of a ghoul with a sour look on his face, blue eyes that were laced with silent fury stared down at her.

Aimee's hand slowly fell away from the handle of her blade and she relaxed her nervous muscles.

"You scared the hell out of me..." She breathed while letting out a deep sigh and walked towards him. "Are you Ahzrukhal?"

"No." He replied bluntly and stepped back into his corner, back away from her, shrouding his face in darkness. She could still see his shiny blue eyes, and how stone cold they were.

_Jesus, with that look in his eyes and Winthrop's description of Ahzrukhal, he could have easily fooled me… Well, he sorta did._

"I'm Ahzrukhal." The ghoul behind the bar announced humbly. "That is why I am behind the bar, and not guarding the door…"

"O-Oh!" Aimee could feel her cheeks reddening in embarrassment, and she walked to the bar. "Sorry. Long day, hit my head pretty hard when I got jumped by those super mutants outside." She nodded to the door.

He snickered lightly. "Well, then there's nothing like a nice bottle of whiskey to relieve you of your headaches. Or maybe if you would like to indulge in _hardier_ things?" His voice trailed away.

Aimee shook her head. "No, wine will be fine. Thank you."

Ahzrukhal spun around and looked up to the shelves, scanning around them with eyes like a Raider hungering for the next hit, and Aimee could see a frown come to his dried lips.

"Is there a problem?" She asked curiously.

"It seems that I have mysteriously run out of wine…" She heard him mumble a few words like "Patchwork", "drunkard", "stealing", and dropped a few inappropriate curses.

"Uh, I can come back later, when you restock, or something?" She questioned.

"No, no." He turned back to her with a strange smile and bowed to her slightly, like a servant. "I am here to please any and all customers. I will be back momentarily with your drink."

Before she could protest and request something else, he sauntered past her and out the door, leaving her to drown in her quiet sighs.

Aimee pulled up a chair at one of the tables and sat down, drumming her fingers on the table top with boredom as she dropped her bag on the floor next to her feet. Her steely eyes danced and darted around the bar, taking in everything that was there.

It was a morbid little slice of... Well, _hell_. It was the Ninth Circle after all. She admired how quaint it felt, all though tension of cheap liquor and misery lingered in the air. It almost seemed like the thing that gave this bar the breath of life.

Aimee turned back to the ghoul in the corner. She noticed he had a broad chest and he dressed in leather armor, he must have been a smidge over six feet tall.

She knew she wasn't exaggerating all though she was very short for an eighteen year old. She was a whopping four foot nine, and her father couldn't understand why when he and her mother were people of average height. She came to his broad chest covered with leather.

The petite smoothskin eyed his weapon of choice; a combat shotgun. She saw the wear of its use on its barrel. His weapon was surely loyal to him.

"I like combat shotguns, too." Aimee said with a smile on her face. "I'd show you Samuel, but I'm pretty sure you'd shoot my head off before I even reached into my bag."

He simply lowered his eyes to give her an unfazed look before averting them back forward.

She cocked a brunette eyebrow. "Uh...What's your-"

"If there is something you require, talk to my employer Ahzrukhal." He stopped her abruptly.

"What? I was just trying to-"

"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal." He gave her a sharp look.

Aimee could feel her lips part slightly in disbelief of how he acted. He wasn't rude, but he wasn't all sunshine and rainbow unicorns either.

_Employer? So he works for Ahzrukhal... Must be a bouncer, or a bodyguard, or-_

His eyes turned shiny and severed her thought like they were snapping sharp scissors. She suddenly felt a cold chill from the base of her tail bone work its way up to the back of her neck, resulting in the hair there to stand on end. She tried to stifle the thought of the vacant ghoul being able to read her mind and wrote it off as his reaction being pure coincidence.

_Or a hit man._ She thought curiously.

"Please. Tell me your name?" She insisted.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal." He repeated as he finally removed his eyes from her.

_He does a very good impersonation of a parrot..._

Aimee smiled warmly. "But I want to talk to you, not Ahzrukhal."

She could see a muscle twitch in his neck, but other than that, he made no effort of moving or speaking.

"His name is Charon." A voice breathed out.

Aimee looked up to see the well dressed ghoul standing in the doorway that he exited from earlier, a bottle of wine nestled gently in his hands. He was fixing his tie, or trying to, but it didn't seem to obey the swift movements of his hands. It looked like he had gotten into a bit of a tussle.

"Charon?" She glanced back at the ghoul. His shreds of dead red hair reminded her of Willow. She wondered if she was getting properly patched up.

"Yes. He is my loyal... Employee." Ahzrukhal responded as if he was slightly out of breath. He grumbled at his tie and left it hanging loosely around his neck as he stalked off to the bars counter.

"Employee…" She mumbled and looked up to Charon again out of the corner of her eyes.

That couldn't have been the first word she thought of when guessing Charon's job. He didn't look like the type of man who liked to be held back by sleazy bosses who probably sampled their own merchandise. Why was he here?

_Probably gets free chems or something as payment…_ She snorted at the thought. _I can see it now, Charon sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth, saying the purple Deathclaw in an apron and his grandmother's hat that he's hallucinating isn't real._

Aimee was about to give another snort of hilarity at her own imagination when Charon's eyes met hers again. That image, and that chuckle, was far gone by then. The image was replaced by his eyes burning into her soul like jagged little pinpoints, and for some reason, the sound of screams and blood splatters.

She cringed, and could see a slight curl in the ghoul's lips in amusement. That only made her bones chill twice over.

"Indeed." Ahzrukhal gave her a questionably shady smirk. "I did not give you a proper welcome, have I? I am your host, Ahzrukhal, and this- _this_, is the Ninth Circle."

"Ha-Happy to be here…" Aimee mumbled back and swallowed hard, finally breaking her eyes away from Charon.

She motioned to his tie. "Uhm… May I?"

"Not at all."

Aimee got up from her seat, the sound of the chair legs contradicting with the floor sent a screech throughout the room as she walked towards Ahzrukhal. She went through the movements of doing up his tie. It somehow reminded her of her father, and she couldn't fathom why helping a rat of a barkeeper do his tie reminded her of him when he never wore a tie in his life. She remembered how all he wore was a white doctor's coat and his cobalt vault jumpsuit with the condemning 101 on his back in yellow numbering, but still he was content with it.

"There." She smiled a little for her father and smoothed down the red fabric. "Have to look nice for the customers, am I right?"

"Thanks." He mumbled and leaned onto the counter. "So, what's a pretty smoothskin like you doing in my humble little bar?"

"Admiring the scenery of Super Mutants with Fat Mans and the spray of bloody fountains." She replied with a sarcastic smirk and pulled up a stool to sit at the counter.

Ahzrukhal chuckled and slid the wine bottle to her. "Here's your drink, smoothskin."

"Please. Call me Aimee," She tapped her fingers on the counter once more as he uncorked the wine for her.

"Uncle Ahzrukhal thinks that your problems seem bigger than a glass of wine." He breathed reverently.

Aimee snorted and turned around to grab her duffle bag. Leaning down to get it, her eyes wandered up to Charon. He was looking down at her, probably making sure she wouldn't pull out a weapon of some sort.

She giggled at him, reaching her hand into her bag as he twitched for his combat shotgun.

"Don't worry. I'm not much of a threat with a _lunchbox of caps_," She slowly brought out the lunchbox and popped it open for him to see. He gave a throaty grumble of approving and she turned back to Ahzrukhal.

"Well I believe little Aimee thinks that Uncle Ahzrukhal has too much free time on his hands." She gave him a handful of caps.

He admired the way they shined and jingled in his rotting palm before pocketing them.

"Another satisfied customer." He smirked. He never smiled, just, smirked.

"I'm only passing through. But who knows? Underworld might be my new hang out." She took a hearty swig from the bottle. "That's if the locals start warming up to me..."

"Don't mind them much, they get- antsy around smoothskins."

Aimee shrugged. "I can't blame them. They have that right, with the way people treat ghouls… I can only imagine the things they have gone through. Saying that I understand, it's a right I don't have." She took another swig.

"You have an interesting outlook on things..." She heard Ahzrukhal mumble under his raspy breath.

"So I've been told." She smiled and looked over her shoulder at Charon again. His eyes were away from her once more, but upon her movements they darted back to her and he folded his arms over his broad chest.

"I see you've taken an interest in my employee." Ahzrukhal rasped.

"I guess I have..." She mumbled and turned back to him, and realized that she's looked Charon's way a numerous amount of times in the past few minutes. "He's kinda scary." She admitted.

Ahzrukhal gave a deep rumble of a chuckle. "I am the owner of his contract. He is to do whatever his contract holder asks of him."

Aimee's eyes widened upon the word 'contract'. "H-He's... A slave?"

"Madame, you _insult_ me. I am a man of many fine crafts and trades, but slavery is not one of them, it is an abomination!" He retorted, but recomposed himself just as quickly. "He did something to earn this. He was raised by a, to say the least, _fascinating_ collection of individuals. Needless to say..." He smirked cruelly. "They brainwashed him."

She stumbled back slightly as if Ahzrukhal had suddenly turned into a Radscorpion and began jabbing at her heels.

"No one _earns_ being a slave!" She exclaimed.

Ahzrukhal frowned at her. "I said he wasn't a slave, did I not? He is obligated to be in the service of anyone who holds his contract, which just so happens to be me...So he's as gentle as a teddy bear can be." He smirked again.

Aimee narrowed her eyes at him callously. He winced under the weight of her stare and stepped back a little. She knew Charon probably felt the tension between them, because she felt a heavy hand grip her shoulder tightly.

She pivoted her head to look at him over her shoulder and she could see the warning look in his expression. A muscle in his neck twitched again when her glare was backfired onto him, and she softened her eyes.

_Poor Charon... He doesn't deserve this. No one does..._

The lone wanderer looked back at Ahzrukhal with another narrow-eyed stare. "I want Charon's contract." She replied heatedly.

He laughed as if she had said the most hysterical thing in the entire Capital Wasteland.

"Oh, _do_ you now? I'm not exactly attracted by your proposition."

Aimee's brow furrowed in frustration and worry. She didn't want to leave Charon in the hands of such a sleazy character, she felt compelled to help him...

"I need someone who knows their way around guns and can watch my back. Charon looks like he can handle himself, which is why I took an interest in him."

"I agree with your argument... But it only wants to make me keep him in my back pocket even more so."

Aimee scoffed with failure at trying to reason with the bastard and turned around to grab her bag. She could have bought his contract with caps, she was sure she could just because this was Ahzrukhal, but she didn't have enough with her... She was saving up for something else.

After getting out of the vault Aimee wandered into Megaton. She became very good friends with all the locals because she was charismatic, and compassionate to boot. She helped everyone, even when they had refused to take her hand. Slowly, but surely, she became one with the people of Megaton and made it her permanent home after she disarmed the bomb the town decided to settle and build around.

Aimee had heard that a man in town named Moriarty had known something about her dad's disappearance and had gone to ask him for information. He refused to reveal squat unless she took care of a little 'loose end' for him, and she agreed to help him, only to find her dad.

She traveled back to Springvale to find said 'loose end', but in turn got jumped on by a psychotic ex-druggie called Silver who begged Aimee not to kill her. She granted approval to Silver's request and went back to Moriarty with the caps she owed, but he was still standing firm on not telling her a damn thing.

He _also_ tried to put the moves on her, suggesting that she could coax the information out of him with a nice rough tumble in his bed sheets. After many 'no's and 'get away from me you sick fuck!'s, he learned the hard way that she truly meant what she said when her fist came hurdling into his face.

Not a smart decision since he was the one with information on her father, and it wasn't completely worth getting kicked out of his saloon, but she still managed. She figured if she got enough caps it could convince Moriarty to give her information.

_Charon could give me the leverage I need... Besides, I'm not exactly Super Woman, I'm bound to get some hot lead by a Wasteland fuck if I become too careless. I need help. That's an understatement..._

She gave Charon an apologetic look before walking out, leaving her wine barely touched at the bar.

* * *

><p>Once the door slammed shut Ahzrukhal began belting out deep, croaky laughter and grabbed the abandoned wine bottle, taking deep chugs of thirst.<p>

"A curious smoothskin, damn pretty too. Got me a little excited when she was fixing my tie…" The ghoul mused aloud and looked to his quiet employee. "She seemed hell bent on buying your contract," He pouted. "I was _certain_ she would shell out some serious caps… But I know she'll be back soon."

Charon stayed in his corner, his eyes moving to the door with curiosity bubbling in his chest. Part of him believed that the strange woman with the grey eyes wouldn't come back, but he thought it strange how her sudden desire for his contract came into play.

He smirked with a long forgotten entertainment rearing itself again. _I have a good feeling about this..._

He didn't want to set his expectations of her so highly, and he tried not to build up his own hope just to hear from drunken bar patrons that she left the next day. The curves of his dry lips turned into a frown at the thought.

Charon knew she could be his ticket out of this dump and away from the slimy rat bastard who ran the Ninth Circle.

The emptiness of the bar quickly filled with noise of the radio as Three Dog from GNR began spurring on about the 'Lone Wanderer' from the vault who had disarmed a bomb in some smoothskin shithole, then went on about reports of more Super Mutants taking refuge in the D.C. ruins.

_Nothing out of the ordinary here… Just another bar rodent with a lunchbox full of caps._

The look she shot him before she walked out snapped his thoughts for a moment. What was that look in her eyes?... Did she feel sorry for him and for his situation? Sorry that he was a ghoul in an unwilling deal? Who gave a crap about a ghoul being stuck between a rock and a hard place?

…She was quietly apologizing to him for not being able to help.

_For the moment, anyways..._ He thought with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. _She'll be back soon._

Charon watched as Ahzrukhal stuffed his new caps into his cash register, humming with the radio contentedly.

_I'm positive._


	6. CHP 6: A Little Bit of Ghoul AssKicking

It was practically the waking hour in Underworld, meaning everyone was pretty much dead with sleep and sweet dreams of better times, and of better people. Residents lay their ghoulish heads to thin pillows, and the fires throughout the exhibit were extinguished from their barrels, relieved of their duty until morning when they were wanted. Only one ghoul stirred in the darkness; a behemoth of a ghoul to be exact.

Charon watched from the shadows as the Mr. Handy, known as Cerberus, who protected Underworld (involuntarily) hovered his way up to the second floor on his late night-early morning watch. He slowly creeped out without a noise to be heard, which must have been odd to anyone who was watching, just because of his size. But he was taught to be stealthy; most of the jobs he had worked before required it.

He grumbled inwardly as he crouched down in front of the Chop Shop's locked doors. He had watched as Doctor Barrows and his assistant Nurse Graves left a couple of hour's earlier, closing up shop early to fuck around in some nice stall up at Carol's Place. Charon knew they did that every few days at around nine from his occasional watches, just like clockwork, so Ahzrukhal's demand for the doctor's drugs was relatively easy. That was the only time he was permitted to leave the Ninth Circle. More like _ordered_ to leave...

Pulling out bobby pins and a screw driver, Charon began working at the lock. The hardest one took him a mieasly minute tops and with no broken bobby pins. Some of his former employers were quite pleased with his skills; mostly because he had so many, and he _excelled_ at all of them.

Medicine, lock picking, weapons; ranging from a simple tire iron all the way to a Fat Man, but always preferring his shot gun. He liked the way the cool metal felt against his hands as he sent a gory symphony of brain matter and eyeballs flying through the air.

Nothing like killing shit to brighten up your day.

The only thing he seemed to struggle with was striking up a nice chat with someone... His speech skills were never that great. He let his combat shotgun do the talking for him on many occasions; his absence of voice or vocal thoughts was one thing most of his employers preferred themselves.

Charon continued to grumble as he couldn't find the lock's sweet spot, and had realized why when he leaned against the door knob and the door suddenly creaked open with a haunting noise.

_What?_ He slowly picked himself up off the ground. _I saw Barrows lock it…_

"What are you up to on a beautiful morning like this?"

Charon spun around, combat shotgun all ready out, with the barrel pressed against the forehead of someone. This caught him a little by surprise, solely because he was aiming for the intruder's chest. He recognized that the poor soul must have been unusually short.

And he recognized that poor soul by the unflinching look in her grey eyes.

The ghoul's hands perspired as he lowered his weapon. The pretty smoothskin smiled up at him warmly, and he hesitated with taking it as genuine, from how sad her eyes were.

_What is she playing at?_ He wondered curiously.

"You picked the lock before me." Charon realized as he strapped his combat shotgun across his back.

_Why the fuck didn't I see it? Why didn't I see her do it?_

"Wasn't that difficult." She replied modestly and stepped out from the shadows with her hands on her hips.

She was sporting a different outfit from earlier; a long white tank top with baggy beige pants (probably in men's sizing from how it hung from her hips and thighs), beige combat boots, and she wrapped a crimson red scarf loosely around her creamy neck. She had a motorcycle helmet with goggles above the brim tucked under her arm.

"So what are you doing here Charon?" She asked in a low voice, but all he did was avert his eyes from her. "What? Are you going to tell me to talk to your buddy Ahzrukhal again?"

Charon glared down at her with frigid eyes as he pinned her against the wall by the doors to the clinic. Her back was pressed against it with his knuckles above her shoulder, pressing into the wall to keep her from moving. She couldn't really; she was stuck between a solid ghoul and a hard place. Her motorcycle helmet had dislodged itself from her arm and rolled behind her firmly planted feet.

"Ahzrukhal is _not_ my friend. He is walking scum on this Earth," He retorted in a collected voice, his breath exhaling into her face, but still she did not flinch.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "So are the Wasteland fucks Samuel devours for breakfast."

_Samuel?_

"…He's my combat shotgun." She clarified. "I was telling you about him earlier, but you were too busy staring at me like I was a fucking Deathclaw to notice."

_She names her weapons. Hrmn. What an odd smoothskin…_

"It is my duty to guard the Ninth Circle-" He started.

"Than what are you doing down here trying to break into the Chop Shop when you're supposed to be 'guarding' the Ninth Circle?" She asked with a smirk on her face.

_She thinks she's __**so**__ clever… I should knock her down a peg or two._

But something kept him from doing so. It was probably Ahzrukhal's orders, he had to be as quick and quiet as possible, and the splattering of a new smoothskins head would only point to his combat shotgun. Ahzrukhal would not be pleased then; if he were able to catch up with Charon and escape the mad mob of the town.

It didn't matter how fast Charon could run. Just as long as he could run faster than Ahzrukhal.

Charon knew he already fucked up with getting caught by this- this- _God_ he didn't know how the hell to describe how much she agitated him! She was like a thorn, deeply embedded into his rotted flesh.

He narrowed his eyes down at her, and began to turn away when she spoke up again.

"You have two options here Charon. You can either rob Doctor Barrows, and I kick your ass, or you can go back to Ahzrukhal and make up some bullshit story to feed him about how this little task of yours was unsuccessful."

He turned back to her with an amused smirk creeping onto his face. He could tell she wasn't a regular potty mouth, her tone seemed to tighten upon using the profanities, but he thought it interesting that a Wastelander did not like swearing.

"These are Ahzrukhal's orders. I will abide by them and terminate any threat if I deem it necessary."

"Am I a threat?" She asked with a tone that seemed childishly inquisitive. He reached for his combat shotgun and she raised an eyebrow at him. "I take that as a yes..."

"You have two seconds to leave before I make an example out of you for all of Underworld to see."

The woman chuckled at his threat, shaking her head, and with light fingers she lowered his combat shotgun by the barrel.

"Charon. I know you're smart, for a hitman anyways,"

_Since when did she believe I was a hitman?_

"You now this isn't going to work. Your empty threats don't have much of an effect on me."

He pulled back his shotgun from her and snorted. "What do you mean?"

"You shoot me, Cerberus comes running down here and see's the aftermath you left, turns it back to Ahzrukhal if he's able to connect the dots. Scenario Uno." She held up a finger to him.

"Scenario one?" Charon mused thoughtfully. _She thinks she's got this all figured out..._ He lowered his shotgun more. _It doesn't matter now. She's already realized that I can't shoot her._

…_Damnit._

"Scenario dos. I leave you to break into the Chop Shop, and I'm sure I can put in a good word with some of Underworld's residents that this was Ahzrukhal's doing. What will you do then, with his grubby little paws having your contract in a death grip?" She shot him a look consisting of a cocked eyebrow.

"Exactly."

Charon strapped his combat shotgun to his back. Fuck, she definitely wasn't making this easy for him.

"Scenario tres. You come with me." She smiled at that one, and he knew she was all in favor of that, but had no hesitation of going with the second option.

"It is not my right to just throw around my contract. You must obtain it from Ahzrukhal."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "_Again_ with your employer... He's becoming a sharp thorn in my hide." Her palm came up to rub her side like he had already dug himself inside her flesh.

_You and me both..._ "That is none of my concern."

"It may not bother you but it bothers me. I do not much care for Ahzrukhal, but I will not turn a blind eye to how he treats you."

Charon stared down at her with suspicious blue eyes. She was doing this because she was concerned about him, not because she needed a hired gun?

He chuckled at the thought and walked away from her.

"He-Hey! Wait! Where are you going?" She called as she bent over to pick up her motorcycle helmet.

"I'll tell Ahzrukhal that there were some..." He glanced back at her with his expression bitter again. "_Small problems_."

"Did you just make a joke about my height?" She gave him a warm chuckle and jogged towards him. "I'm Aimee by the way. It's nice to be properly introduced to you now!"

_She seems so- happy. So carefree… She's like a fucking five year old._

As they walked next to each other up the stairs to the Ninth Circle, he felt something bubbling in his chest again.

_It's decided. _He looked down to her, observantly, out of the corner of his eyes. _She's a pain in my ass._

"I'll see you later Charon." Aimee waved to him before sprinting off to Carol's place and disappearing inside.

Charon grumbled as he tossed himself headfirst back into the Ninth Circle. He wasn't looking forward to seeing her again, but at the same token he kind of wanted to see her come back. She was... Interesting_._ No, _different_.

The ghoul was immediately greeted by a superficial grin by the sole person whose presence in the Wasteland was a hindrance more than anything.

"Charon..." He breathed. "Did you get what I asked?"

"No." He replied bluntly, trying not to sound too smug about it.

The grin Ahzrukhal wore was immediately erased clean and a frown was drawn onto his face.

"_No?_ What do you mean _no?_" He bellowed with curled fists.

"There were problems. Problems that I could not deal with _without_ using brute force."

Ahzrukhal's frown disappeared, leaving a hard line of curiosity on his lips.

"Oh? Is that so? Pray tell, what this problem was?" He asked in a tone that irked Charon a little.

It was sarcastic. He knew Ahzrukhal wasn't doubting his skills, but he also knew that although Ahzrukhal was eyeball deep in caps, he wasn't completely oblivious.

Upon walking inside, Charon already had a lie cooked up in his head.

"The lock cannot be picked." He replied without a bat of an eye. "It needs a key. I could not require one from Doctor Barrows or Nurse Graves without alerting others."

Ahzrukhal muttered a silent 'shit' and several 'fuck's to himself as he tried to think of a way to come up with a solution.

"No matter." Ahzrukhal scoffed. "We will just find some other means..." But then, his eyes lit up as he left his thought dangling in the silence of the air. "And I know _just_ how to do it."

Charon wanted to roll his eyes, but retained it as to not gain another earful from the contract holder.

_This is going to be good..._

"The new smoothskin, Aimee," He tapped his chin in progression of thought. "She has a lunchbox full of caps... Yes, I recall from earlier."

Charon knew what he was going to say next. He didn't mind shooting someone's face into oblivion, but this struck a chord with the ghoul. Why did he have a sudden change of pace over ending the woman even though he _knew_ she irritated the living hell out of him? Or maybe he was just sore that she got the jump on him in front of the Chop Shop... He did not even know she was there until she piped up.

"I want you to kill her. Find out when she leaves tomorrow and follow her out, a nice shell to the head should do it... Take whatever's valuable, and the caps, of course." Ahzrukhal gave a happy sneer. "Problem solved."

He nodded to his boss. "As you wish." And Ahzrukhal turned away to crawl into bed and sleep.

Charon turned back and stood in his usual corner. While Ahzrukhal slept, he would keep watch of the Ninth Circle; sleep became a foreign thing to him soon after coming into work under Ahzrukhal and his paranoia.

The first week or two, sleep had become something strange to his employer as well. Ahzrukhal was too afraid to have his back turned to Charon, sleep when Charon was around, he was too afraid to let his guard down even for a moment. Ahzrukhal knew what Charon was capable of, and he knew Charon would kill him without vacillation.

_An employer afraid of his own employee..._ Charon mulled over the thought, and he would have colored himself a liar if he didn't say that Ahzrukhal's paranoia gave him some cheap kicks.

But then his unwavering mind reverted back to the woman... _To Aimee_. Was he hesitating because he knew she wouldn't stand a chance against him? He was male, and he had a bit over a good foot of height stacked against her. He could take her down without his shotgun, simple and clean, no connections back to him or Ahzrukhal. Done.

Charon thought more and more about it until the very image of her began to haunt him. He found himself drifting into the sweet surrender of sleep with the very last thought he had of her; how her sad grey eyes contradicted with her happy smile. The shadows not only hid her very well, but now, they were hiding her secrets too.

And Charon _hates_ people who keep deep, dark secrets.

_I'll find out soon..._ He thought determinedly as his world slipped into a tired blackness.


	7. CHP 7: For Good Or Ill

**A/N: I _know_ that this is supposed to be Charon's flashback, so it might be a little weird that it starts with the way it does, but, it's all for good purposes :3 And it's sort of like...A mix, between different POV's. (It's confusing to explain, BARE WITH ME, please? D:)**

**Also, because I completely _forgot_ to post this chapter _last week_, I'm posting it now, and so we can stay with the game plan, I'm also posting Chapter Eight! Think of it as a deep apology, from me, for being a horrible person D:!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter! Read, review, no flammers, rinse and repeat! :3 Simple as that.**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**-Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p><em>"Wake up! Please! You've <em>_**got**__ to wake up!"_

_Aimee slowly opened her eyes to have her vision ambushed by the bright lights of her room. They reflected off the steel walls, and her body was being shaken violently with Amata's outline leaning over her._

_"A-Amata? Weird, I was just dreaming about you..." Aimee joked tiredly and rubbed her grey eyes till she could see her childhood friend with clearer vision. "What time is it anyways? I was sleeping Amata!"_

_Once her eyesight turned sharper she could see the redness in her friend's eyes. Her small shoulders trembled weakly and she bit her lip till it turned white, staring down at the floor to let the tears fall._

_"Amata?..." Aimee sat up on her bed._

_"Jo-Jonas... He's dead!" The Overseer's daughter flung herself onto Aimee in a much needed embrace, crying hysterically._

_That certainly pulled Aimee out of her tired daze. She stared at the ceiling with a certain paralysis creeping through her feet and up her legs, drilling up her spine and leaking into her head with a dull spark. That's when she could hear the screaming and the shouting coming from outside her door. _

_The howling had invaded her world, ripping through it till it had become shredded into a million, sad little pieces, and laid at her feet, like a broken dream._

_"Jonas?..." Her voice was barely audible to her. She couldn't comprehend what was going on; Jonas? __**Dead?**__ Was that right? Was that __**supposed**__ to be right?_

_Aimee pulled back Amata gently and looked her square in the eyes._

_"What do you mean Jonas is dead? What the fuck happened?" Her voice was beginning to strain. Was she trying not to cry? Yes, she wasn't, she had to be strong. If not for herself, then for Amata._

_Amata tried to silence her hysteria but it came out in little stiff hiccups._

_"Yo-Your father- I don't know how!" She wiped her eyes, hiccupping still._

_"My father?" Aimee grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. "My father __**what**__?" _

_**Oh God... No... No! Please, God no, he's not dead too! Please don't tell me he's dead!**_

_"He-... He's gone, Aimee... He opened the door and left the vault."_

Aimee's eyes flung open and she stared at the ceiling of the cubicle she got from Carol. Slowly sitting up in her bed she realized she was covered in a chilled sweat, her toned legs tangled up in the thin sheet she used for a blanket and her breath came to her in small pants.

_He's not dead..._ She smiled sadly to herself and wiped the perspiration off her forehead with the back of her arm. _Just gone. _

"Just- _gone…_" She murmured to herself reassuringly.

_There's still a chance of finding him._

Aimee quickly pulled on a pair of torn, off-white shorts and a patched-together brown top, strapping her homemade chest plate over her torso. She had trouble slipping on her thigh high socks and her reinforced knee-high boots, her hands weren't cooperating; they'd turn numb before jolting back to life for her every few seconds.

Packing up her stuff briskly, she made her way out to the front counter to talk with Carol for a short while.

"Morning!" Carol smiled. "How was your sleep? Did you find everything okay?"

Aimee nodded with a broad grin and stretched her tired arms up to the air.

"God I don't remember the last time I slept in a bed!"

_Well, I do, that was about... Maybe, a week, a week and a half ago? I honestly don't remember...The last time I was in Megaton._

"I'm glad you enjoyed your stay!" Carol chuckled. "I hope you think about Carol's Place the next time you wander into D.C."

Aimee nodded. "I certainly will. Take care, Carol," She reached over the counter and gave her a tight hug, before turning to Greta and gave a friendly wave. "You too, Greta."

The ghoulette clad in pink only gave a small grunt as Aimee retreated from Carol's Place, trotting down the stairs with a refreshed energy. It wasn't that early in the morning, but only some residents were up and walking about with Cerberus hovering around on his patrol. Her eyes caught the Chop Shop, and it reminded her of what transpired that night between her and Charon. Neutral eyes averted to the double doors of the Ninth Circle, followed by a deep sigh.

The lone wanderer made her way to the hellish bar. She wanted to have another crack at getting Charon's contract; not for free by any means, just because the contract was held by the smooth talking Ahzrukhal, and he never gave up anything for free. It was in his nature.

But once entering through the double doors of the Ninth Circle and seeing his expectant smirk, her stomach did nauseous flips that made her want to turn around, head home, and threaten Moriarty herself.

"I knew you would be back. The liquor is the finest out there." He crowed.

Aimee gave a small snort. "Not really, I just came back for the lovely atmosphere that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. We've got business, Ahzrukhal."

"Business, do we? Is this about Charon's contract again?" He asked furtively.

"Only thing I'd be back in here for." The sound of glass breaking made her spin around, and she saw a drunken ghoul in the corner throwing glasses around and laughing strangely.

"Hey!" Ahzrukhal boomed. "I sure hope you have the caps to pay for that!"

"I s-spand enuff on yo-your-" The ghoul hiccupped. "_Booze_ Azcal!"

Aimee giggled immaturely at the way he slurred Ahzrukhal's name. It sounded like 'ass call'.

The bartender took a moment to take in a deep breath and recompose himself.

"Now then, where were we?" He asked smoothly.

"Charon's contract. I want it, so what can I do to get it?"

"Well now, this is a splendid surprise," The ghoul grinned from ear to ear, which Aimee found it shocking to see, out of the sea of smirks he gave. "I just so happen to have a 'loose end' that needs tying up…"

Aimee held up a hand to halt him. "Oh _no_, I just tied up a 'loose end', and it got me shit-kicked all the way to Rome and back. I'll pass, if it's all the same to you."

"I see." Ahzrukhal grimaced. "Then how much is Charon's contract worth to you?"

"Hold up, I want to see it first." She responded calmly.

"Excuse me?" He asked, dumbfounded. "You would like to see his contract?"

Aimee nodded. "Paranoia thing I have."

Ahzrukhal stared at her doubtfully.

"What? Do you think I'm gonna try and snatch it? I'm not stupid enough to do something like that, especially with your little _teddy bear_ watching." She motioned her head to Charon, who still stood in the corner like nothing had changed.

"I suppose so," Ahzrukhal rasped and turned around to the wall safe behind the counter. After a few movements the safe opened and he pulled something out, firmly shutting it once more, and turning back to Aimee with a rolled up piece of paper.

"Charon's contract," He unfurled it onto the counter top, but out of arm's reach of Aimee. "Low and behold."

"Indeed." She observed it carefully before sighing. "How much do you want for it?"

Ahzrukhal smirked. "Three thousand caps."

Aimee did a double-take so fast her neck was in danger of being broken.

"Th-Three _thousand_ caps?" She shrieked. "Who in God's name would have so much money?"

Ahzrukhal shrugged. "If you cannot pay for it, than you can always tie up that loose end for me…"

She glared. "That's _not_ an option for me."

"Well neither is paying three thousand caps, in your situation."

She bit her lip. "You're a con-artist. Moriarty could be your long lost twin for all I know…"

"Moriarty? I can't help but feel I know that name…" He replied sarcastically, chuckling at her tauntingly.

"Don't fucking laugh at me." Aimee could feel her anger rising again. She was just about getting sick and tired of getting tossed around by every Wasteland asshole out here, she just wanted to find her dad, but even _that_ seemed like too much to ask.

He scowled. "You best watch your tone, smoothskin."

"Or what? Call upon the wrath of your little teddy bear? Face it Ahzrukhal, you're nothing but another asshole drowning himself in caps and booze, hiding yourself behind a hired gun because you're just a fucking pussy." She glared at him. "Just looking at you makes me _sick_ to my stomach!"

Aimee knew she had finally done it when Ahzrukhal raised his hand in the air, and backhanded her across the face. She began seeing bright stars as she collapsed against the counter, using it to hold up her weight because her shaky legs had failed to do so.

The wanderer rubbed at the ache in her cheek to find them touching something thick and tacky, and pulling her fingers away, blood had coated their tips. She looked down to his hand and saw a thick, gold ring placed on his middle finger. It must have cut her face when he backhanded her.

"Charon, I think that this smoothskin has wasted all of my patience. Deal with her." Ahzrukhal demanded.

The six foot-something ghoul was happy to oblige, and it showed with an amused smirk on his face as he stalked towards Aimee, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and breast-plate armor, hoisting her into the air, and then slamming her back onto the counter with a heavy thud ringing in the air of the contact.

She gave out a low growl of pain as Charon's hand tightened around her tiny throat, completely incasing it with his fingers, and he remembered how petite she was compared to him.

Aimee's foot came flying up to kick the back of his head, and with a frown, he tightened his grip.

Tiny or not she was a fighter, tooth and nail.

"Ch-Char- Charon..." She choked out and latched a hand onto the front of his armor, her other hand bracing the base of his wrist to try and pry his hand off her.

He only stopped for a moment to look down at her, he never much thought of unfair fights; his height was an advantage, his strength was an advantage, his assertiveness was an advantage, but here and now, looking into those eyes... He saw something. The ghoul saw that there was a light of hope behind her pupils and it was dying; dying because of him. He was stealing something from her... But what?

Charon also saw something else out from the corners of his sky blue irises. He immediately unlatched his hand from around her neck and stepped back from her and the counter as if he had seen a ghost.

"Charon? What are you doing?" Ahzrukhal asked in an irritated voice. "Finish her!"

Aimee slowly sat up and took in deep breaths of air, caressing her sore throat with a trembling hand and stared up at Charon with the hope she had almost lost back in her eyes.

Charon glared sharply at him. "I no longer serve you, Ahzrukhal."

"Wh-What?" He stepped back, his back pressed into the liquor shelves.

He stretched his hand over Aimee and picked up the contract, gingerly handing it to her.

"I am now in your service, Mistress."

"Mi-_Mistress?_" She choked out in a hoarse voice and stared at the contract. Fresh blood had been lightly sprinkled across the page like a little Radroach trail.

"Charon! What are you doing?" Ahzrukhal demanded, grabbing the contract from her hands. "_I_ am still your contract holder! _Me! _Do you understand?" He bellowed in a panicked voice.

"She has paid for my contract in full." His combat shotgun was already out and aimed at his former employers head. "I am now, no longer in your services."

"Ch-Charon! Wait! I didn't mean anything I did or said!" Ahzrukhal held up hands of terror to him. "I'm a changed man, honest!"

"Charon, stop!" Aimee placed a stern hand on the ghoul's shoulder.

He didn't even blink as he clicked the trigger of his combat shotgun. In only a matter of seconds, Ahzrukhal's brain matter had turned into a new decoration for the Ninth Circle's wall and counter, coating a thin crimson layer on Aimee's arm and uncut cheek.

"What the fuck!" She shrieked, looking at Charon with neutral eyes full of horror. Her hand retracted from his broad shoulder.

"Ahzrukhal was a bastard and he deserved to die. My contract prevented me from doing so."

"Sh-Shit…"Aimee was utterly confused. How had she gotten Charon's contract at all?

"Shall we move on?" He mused.

"What? Charon! You just fucking killed Ahzrukhal! Sure, he was an asshole, but-" She gasped.

Did she somehow have a hand in this?... Did Ahzrukhal striking her give Charon the last shove he needed to just pull the trigger?

"You have gained possession of my contract. I will serve you, for good or ill, I serve you." He repeated.

"But… How?" She questioned. "I didn't buy your contract from him!"

"When he struck you, that was the transaction. Your blood spilling onto the contract, that was the payment."

Aimee blinked before chuckling in a confused manner. "Good God, we live in one fucked up world…Don't we Charon?"

"Indeed." He took her hand and helped her steady off the counter. "I apologize for harming you. If I had seen the contract sooner-"

"No, no," She looked up at him with a helpful smile on her face. "You didn't know."

"But I should have."

"But you _didn't_."

They stared at each other for a brief moment before Aimee stumbled towards her bag, pulled out her lunchbox of caps, and neatly rolled up Charon's contract to place it carefully on top. She returned the lunchbox back to her bag, and swung it up onto her shoulder.

_Hmn… From what I've seen, she did have the minimum amount of caps to pay for my contract. At least one thousand. Fucking Ahzrukhal… Probably figured she had more than enough._

"I wanna give a quick goodbye to Willow and Winthrop. We have a very long walk back to Megaton, and it's going to be a _very_ long while before I get back here... Damn Super Mutants."

"I can take care of them for you." Charon replied simply and walked towards her, placing his shotgun on his back again.

"_What?_" Aimee spun around and looked up to the ghoul who towered over her. "Wait, just like that? You're gonna run out there guns a-blazing? What if you get hurt?"

"I'll take my chances. I have medical knowledge, it is under my contract."

Aimee raised an eyebrow. "O-Oh."

"Do you underestimate my abilities, mistress?"

"No! Of course not, it's just that most people out here don't have a speck of medical knowledge... Fuck, most people out here don't have a speck of _common sense_ to keep their stupid asses out of gunfire."

There was an awkward silence between the two as the radio blasted throughout the room, Three Dog from GNR going on and on about the 'Lone Wanderer' from a vault once again.

"Not this again..." Aimee murmured nervously and looked up to Charon. "You'd think Three Dog would have something better to talk about, you know what I mean?" She laughed awkwardly and made her way to the door, opening it for Charon.

_I couldn't agree with her more… I wonder who this 'Lone Wanderer' is, anyways…_

"Let's get going, I want to find some place to rest before nightfall." Aimee said with a small smile to him.

"As you wish."


	8. CHP 8: I'll Follow You Into The Dark

**A/N: ALRIGHT! So, this chapter is kind of a mix between Charon's thoughts and Aimee's thoughts, so I _hope_ it's not too confusing for you, my dear readers!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee stared in disbelief at all the Super Mutant bodies scattered around. She was so preoccupied with trying to simply cripple just two, Charon had somehow managed to kill at <em>least<em> six. How the fuck did anyone do that?

"Shall we continue?" He walked towards her with a minigun, tossing it on the ground to her.

"What's this?" She crouched down to it, placing Samuel gently on the ground to inspect it. "It's in poor condition... Damn Super Mutants never take care of their weaponry. I'd be lucky if I get any caps off of it!"

"I trust that with your repair skills you'll find some way to manage." His eyes scanned over the rest of the metro tunnels for any signs of movement.

"I guess so." She grunted in an effort to pick it up, _damn thing was heavy! _"How did you know I'm good at repairing things?"

"You have small calluses on your hands, sometimes created if you hold a wrench the wrong way. They are old so you probably learned over time, suggesting that you at least have some skill."

There was awkward silence between the two as Aimee blinked up at him in bewilderment.

"…Would you prefer I carry it for you?" He finally asked.

She shook her head and swung it onto her back. "Nah I've got-" She shrieked out as she fell backwards, landing flat on her ass. "Oooow!"

Charon immediately walked to her aid, pulling the minigun off and hoisting her up.

"I'm carrying it for you." He finalized, and picked it up with relative ease.

Aimee huffed. "You can't do everything for me!"

"I only do what you can't do. I'm here to protect you. Now, are we leaving?"

She sighed and nodded, picking Samuel up off the ground and walked.

_Wait a minute… I can protect myself!_

Hours had passed and the duo hadn't spoken two words since then. They just kept walking on in silence, and it was awkward for Aimee because she loved to talk, but she felt Charon was a little more...Reclusive, and preferred silence over all.

Aimee spent a moment checking her Pip-Boy and sighed at the time and the distance they had covered once semi-fresh air hit their faces as they finally exited the metro. They wound through different stations, and she silently thanked that they weren't filled with as much super mutants as before, solely because she cleared them out as she made her way to the deeper part of D.C.

They were by the Tepid Sewers now. She was going to ask Dukov if the two could spend the night at his place, but she knew the old bastard was all hands and jumpy around guns; he might give Charon a reason to blow his head off and she had decided against it.

"We should set up camp here. We have a very _lovely_ view of Mirelurks tearing Radroaches to pieces!" She joked with a giggle.

Charon's eyes surveyed their surroundings. "I don't like the look of this place…" He growled.

"We don't have much of a choice," She sighed. "Besides, it's only until morning. We can take turns patrolling the campsite, I'll take first patrol." Aimee began pulling herself up from her roll out mattress when Charon grabbed her arm.

"I will watch for the rest of the night. You may go to sleep, mistress."

"Well it's not fair if you're up all night! You need your sleep too!" The smoothskin protested.

"You hold my contract now." He pointed out, still holding onto her arm.

"Well, then, I'm ordering you to let me have first watch and let me take turns with you all night!" A crease twisted between her eyebrows in frustration, her tone, flabbergasted.

Charon gave her a silent glare before grunting in approval and letting go of her arm. What was with her? She got his contract yet she _didn't_ want his help?

"Thanks." She grabbed her bag and shuffled through it, tossing him a box of Yum Yum Devilled Eggs and a bottle of Nuka-Cola.

"What is this?" He asked as he looked down onto the box.

"Dinner, obviously," She replied with a smile. "You have to eat too."

"What about you?" He questioned as he set the food in his lap.

"Already ate."

Charon looked up to her with calm eyes; she sucked at lying.

"I didn't see you eat anything."

She tensed up. "We-Well, I ate earlier! Before we set out this morning…"

"That was hours ago." He pointed out.

"Really, I'm not hungry Charon." She waved her arms to him in refusal.

"You need to eat mistress."

"My name's Aimee!"

"Don't change the subject," He barked. "You need to eat."

"Make me!" She replied childishly and crossed her arms over her chest, sticking her nose up in the air.

Charon grinned in acceptance of her challenge as he kicked some dirt over the fire, its flames flickering in and out, cascading monstrous shadows around them.

"As you wish…" He grumbled in the dark.

"Ch-Charon?" Aimee whimpered as the fire completely died out.

Her eyes would not readjust to the darkness. She sat there awkwardly, her body shaking as she looked around.

"Charon! Answer me da-damnit!"

_Why did he kick the fire out? __**Why**__ damnit?_ Her mind panicked as old memories attacked her mind.

"_What's the matter, nosebleed? You're not afraid of the dark, __**are**__ you?"_

She outstretched her hand in front of her on the ground, patting around through the dirt with shaky fingers, trying to find her box of matches.

_C'mon! C'mon! Where are they damnit? Where are the __**fucking**__ matches? _Her mind howled.

"_Daddy's girl! Daddy's girl! Well, daddy can't help you now!"_

Aimee's hand finally patted over the small box and she quickly yanked it open, taking out a match with quivering fingers and ignited it, tossing it into the fire pit to watch the wood temple be engulfed in flames.

She gave a silent sigh of relief and sat in front of the fire.

"Charon, if you _ever_ do that again, I swear I'll-"

Aimee looked over to where he previously sat, finding it unoccupied by her new companion.

_What the hell?..._

Warm air blew in from the side of her face, like deep breaths, and she slowly pivoted her head. Charon was kneeling right next to her with the box of Yum Yum Devilled Eggs in his hand.

"_GAH!_" She squealed, falling back to land on her elbows. "G-God _damnit_ Charon! You scared me half to death!"

He chuckled and crawled towards her. She froze.

"What are you doing?" She tensed up a little at the smile on his face. "Charon?"

"Following orders." He replied simply and grabbed her by one of her wrists to sit her up. "Making you eat."

Aimee understood the game he was playing and slowly relaxed herself, a smile spreading onto her lips.

"I'll never be taken _alive!"_ She bellowed, jumping up to run away when a strong hand jolted out and grabbed her by the wrist again, pulling her back to him in a tumble of laughter.

"Damn, Charon! I never knew you were so fast, I-"

He quickly clamped a large hand over her mouth, and she could see from the corners of her eyes he was looking at something that only he seemed to acknowledge.

Aimee tried to pry his hand off to ask what was wrong, but he kept it firmly planted across her lips, using his other hand to restrain her against him.

The Lone Wanderer realized that she was sitting between his arched legs with her back pressed against his chest, one hand to her mouth to silence her and one strong arm wrapped around her midsection to hold down her arms.

"Don't make _any_ noise." He whispered a warning into her ear, his hot breath exhaling onto her skin and making it tingle.

Before she could try and squirm her way out of his embrace, his foot quickly scuffed out the fire with another heaping mound of dirt. They were shrouded in darkness once again, and Charon could feel her tiny body tense up against his.

He recognized that reaction; she had done it earlier when he put out the fire to sneak over to her.

_She's afraid of the dark…_ He realized with a smirk of abrupt interest. _What a child._

"Are you afraid of the dark?" He mumbled into her ear teasingly.

"_God, what a __**crybaby!**__ What's wrong, crybaby? Calling for your stupid daddy?"_

Aimee stiffened as one of her shaking hands came up to his, the one clamped across her mouth. Charon believed she was going to try to pry it off again, he knew that smoothskins wouldn't like having a practically rotting hand over their mouth, but instead she intertwined her shaking fingers into his.

_Is she… __**Holding**__ my hand?_ He thought as he looked down to their hands.

But he suddenly knew; Aimee wasn't just afraid of the dark. Aimee was utterly_ petrified_ of the dark.

He could feel her form begin trembling even more when in the cascading moonlight was the outline of a towering Deathclaw, crouching over the small hills, as if stalking something. It roared to the half moon in the sky with a terrible ferocity, before bounding away into the darkness.

Charon felt her body go limp against his, and could feel the rapid beating her heart gave to her surrounding ribcage. He didn't pay much attention to his terrified employer, he was too busy making sure the threat of the Deathclaw was gone.

_Something's not right… Deathclaws don't come so close to settlements…_ Charon thought suspiciously as he began to push Aimee away from him, but was stopped when her arms grabbed for his waist.

"Pl-Please… Don't…" She mumbled against his chest.

"Don't what?" He asked in an emotionless tone.

"Don't leave…"

Charon had to laugh. So far, his new employer was as squishy as a mole rat and she jumped at the slightest things; Aimee was thus far severely disappointing him.

"I need to make the fire again. Unless you'd like to stay in the dark?" He thought aloud.

Aimee slowly let go off his waist. "Hu- Hurry…" Her voice cracked with fear, and he moved quickly, a roaring fire glowing in the pit in a matter of seconds.

The two sat quietly as Charon leisurely chewed at his food, taking small sips of soda between each bite. His blue eyes were focused on her face, her expression seemed impassive now, as her own eyes were trained on the way the flames licked at the night sky with tiny crackles.

"I've been afraid of the dark since-" The smoothskin gave a small chuckle of sadness. "Well, as far as I can remember…"

Charon kept quiet but stared at her. When her eyes darted to his, he stopped eating, and nodded at her to continue.

"There was this kid I grew up with. He teased me whenever he got the chance…" Aimee hugged her knees to her chest and wrapped her frail arms around them, nestling her chin into her knees.

"One day, him and his friends thought it would be funny to lock me in this little janitor's closet on the lower level… The key broke and I was stuck in there for- I don't remember how long… It must have been a long time because I was hungry after a while."

Charon was about to take a bite out of his food, but stopped and lowered it away from his mouth upon seeing the look on her face. Her eyes began to glimmer in the flicker of the fire, they were watering up with tears.

"It was really cold in there. Our heating system was acting weird that week, I remember, because Stanley kept complaining about not having the right parts." She smiled sadly into her arms. "It was dark, and I could remember calling out for my dad. I remember crying because all that boy did was laugh and laugh… He called me a crybaby, taunting me with any names he could think of."

Aimee buried her head into her encircled arms and her shoulders began to bob up and down as she quietly cried. Only a few sounds emerged from her arms as her short hair fell around them like a curtain.

_She said lower level before, along with heating system… Lower level of what?_ Charon thought as he continued consuming his food. _…She's from a vault._

"I heard them run away after a while because it got really quiet," She picked up her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. "Jonas found me just when I was starting to get hungry and he told my dad what happened. He was so fu-furious…" She hiccupped a chuckle and a smile.

Charon didn't know any of the people that she had mentioned. Stanley, Jonas, her father, she didn't even say what the name of her bully was. He thought it'd be best if he didn't ask at all. She would say when the time she was ready to came.

"I'm s-sorry Charon." Aimee looked up to him. "It's a stupid reason to be afraid of the dark. But I can't help it… I just am …"

Charon really didn't have any fears, he couldn't necessarily tell her that he understood, so he was confused with his thoughts when he replied with;

"I understand."

Aimee giggled lightheartedly. "Thanks for listening. It helps…" She wiped away the rest of the tears and gave a deep inhale, ruffling her short hair with her fingers. "So! We head out early tomorrow morning, we can sleep in once we get to Megaton." She smiled. "I think you'll like it there. It's really nice, and so are the people."

Charon didn't doubt that the people were nice, but he, like _all_ ghouls knew, that even the nicest people would turn nasty once seeing a ghoul within a mile radius of them. But he had to second guess this thought when Aimee crawled over to him and fell asleep with her head in his lap, wrapping herself in a thick blanket.

"G'night Charon." She looked up at him with tired eyes and yawned. "Lemme know when it's my turn to patrol…"

"As you wish." He replied and looked out over the clearing.

He could see the bridge that beamed over the water, and on the mass of land across from them was a small shack with a wooden platform spread in front of it. He assumed it was an outdoor eatery from before the war, and the little tin shack was a later added development.

But slowly, his eyes began to trail over to the smoothskin who cooed with the sounds of sleep in his lap. She was curled up in a little ball in her blankets with her arms outstretched limply on the ground in front of her. The ghoul wondered why she chose him as a pillow when there was a roll out mattress across the campfire.

_Hmn… A smoothskin who __**likes**__ ghouls._ Charon thought with meditative smirk. _Now I've seen everything._

He has seen smoothskins before that had nothing against ghouls, they could tolerate being in the same room as a living corpse, but it depended on the time they _could _tolerate the smell. Most couldn't stand the stench longer than an hour. The longest he's seen was roughly thirty minutes.

Of course, his skin didn't really flake and peel off like most of the other ghouls did, it sort of dried up and turned leathery; his metamorphosis was difficult to explain or describe. All he knew was that he was treated like the others who had undergone ghoulification all the same; he was isolated. None of his loved ones had survived the radiation of the bombs, and if they had, they wouldn't have lived as long as he did. If they did, they wouldn't have recognized him either.

Charon was pulled out of his pondering when Aimee's hand came up to his knee, clasping onto the kneecap of his armor as a small smile came onto her lips.

_She's a strange one…_

The rest of the night went on in silence. Aimee gave tiny noises in the pleasure of her sleep with her head in his lap as he maintained watch. He once in a while looked down to the smoothskin he was protecting now; she could act like a small child at times, but otherwise, she was deemed tolerable.


	9. CHP 9: It Takes Two To Tango

**AN: Alright! I like how this chapter turned out :D And I hope you all do too! ^^ (I don't know how the idea came to me, it just did xD!)**

**Anyways, so here's the usual. No flammers- only people who wish to give me _constructive criticism. _Oh! And Review! Because we all know what happens if Charon does it get his reviews... ... ...**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>Aimee's eyes slowly fluttered open to the morning sun, blinking as they squinted and readjusted to the lighting. She groaned and rubbed her eyes, giving a wide-mouthed yawn.<p>

_What time is it anyways?..._ She sat up and stretched out. _I don't feel sore or tired… Weird._

"Good morning mistress." Charon murmured from behind her. She looked over her shoulder at him, smiling a little.

"Morning, Charon. How did you sleep?"

He responded with a blink, then a slight twitch in his neck when she gave him a sharp look.

"I told you to wake me up for patrols! Why didn't you?" She demanded.

"You were tired, and you had given me the last of your food." He replied bluntly.

"What? I have more, I have-" The smoothskin began.

"No. You have nothing else. You gave me the last of it last night, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

Aimee's eyes fell away from him to look at the ground, her hand clenching onto her blanket.

"Maybe…" She looked down to a rolled up mattress placed under her head as a pillow.

_Is this… Charon's roll out mattress?_

Charon kicked the already dimming fire out. "Stop it." He tried not to sound demanding, but she knew that was just the type of man he was; aggressive, and not afraid to take the Brahmin by the horns, so to speak…

"Make m-" Aimee paused once she remembered what happened the _last_ time she said those two words. "Never mind. Forget I said that." She kicked off her blanket and folded it up, rolling up her sleeping bag and tucking them both away inside her bag with one last stretch.

"We'll get to Megaton around nighttime, that's _if_ we don't run into anything that'll kill us first." She joked dryly and got up from the ground, dusting dirt off her clothes. "Ready to head out?"

"Let's move."

The duo began walking across the bridge at a reasonable pace. There was silence, Aimee's stomach growling in empty agony once in a while, but she mentioned nothing of it. Charon didn't mind pointing it out once the growling became louder and longer, though.

"When there is little to be eaten, _you_ eat it, not act like a child and give it to me."

"Well what's done is done, so get over it." She stuck a stubby tongue out at him, tripping on a crack in the pavement and falling flat on her face.

Charon smiled a little with cruel amusement and continued walking as she laid there.

"I will walk on without you if you refuse to get up."

"You already are!" Aimee cried, shaking a fist at him. "Bastard!" And froze when boiling hot air streamed against the back of her neck. Her hair stood on end as it tingled down her spine, goose bumps swelling against her porcelain skin under her clothing. The wanderer froze, afraid to angle her head around to look at who, or _what_, it was.

"Ch-Charon?" She squeaked.

"I really will leave you behind, mistress." Truth was he wasn't going to, she had his contract after all, but he decided to play with her for a little while.

He wanted to know what her breaking point was, so he knew what was taboo territory and what wasn't. Hell, he never talked much, and he always did as he was told, so he never reached such territory with any of his former employers. But he had learned from the mistakes that many other dumbasses made, earning the barrel of his shotgun crammed down their tightening throats.

"Charon, s-seriously…" She squeaked again.

"Get. Up." He called back simply.

Aimee slowly turned her head up over her shoulder, eyes coming up to meet the hardened, leathery face of a giant Deathclaw, staring down at her with hungry eyes. It gave out a low, blood-curdling growl before bellowing a roar at her.

Charon whipped around to see Aimee lying underneath the abomination of a reptile, watching in pure terror as it brought sharp claws high above its head and roared louder.

He had never ran so fast in his life.

"Charon!" She screeched, rolling over and trying to get up, barely dodging the Deathclaw's downward swipe on her.

Combat shotgun out, he cocked it and clasped a finger down on the trigger. With a loud noise of exploding shells ripping through the air, blood dripped down the Deathclaw's tightened chest and onto Aimee. He watched as it staggered back a little before coming back to stable legging, its attention now on him. It growled fiercely at his presence.

"Aimee, run!" Charon demanded as he shot again, the spray of his determination grazing the creature's shoulder.

Aimee crawled between the Deathclaw's legs unnoticed, dodging its sweeping tail as she turned back to look at the backside of its hulking stature, her expression turning bold with determination.

_What is she doing?_ His head throbbed.

She pulled out her jagged combat knife from the hem of her thigh-high stocking, staring down to the tender flesh of the abomination's heel.

_...Oh. __**Fuck me**__._

"Aimee no!" He shrieked as the toothed side of her blade slashed across the back of the Deathclaws Achilles' tendon, blood spurting out onto her as it screamed in pain, turning around to glare down at her.

The last thing he saw of Aimee was the way her bottomless silver eyes widened in horror as its claw came high above its head; Charon took that moment to shoot it in the back, but its eyes never left the smoothskin. He watched as her tiny body was launched into the air with a brisk backhand to the stomach, sending her hurdling into the water over the side of the bridge.

"Damnit!" He grumbled under his breath, quickly cocking his weapon and shooting again. A spray of lead dug in between the lizard's shoulder blades. It turned back to Charon, giving him the opportunity to deal some damage to its face.

Charon shot again and again. He forgot how resilient the overgrown lizards were; but that thought was quickly forgotten as it gave out a short snarl before falling to its side limply, laying in a small pool of thick, clotting scarlet.

He dropped his shotgun onto the pavement before running to the edge of the bridge, bounding up onto the railing and diving into the water.

_Damnit! Where is she? _His thoughts reeled and screamed demandingly for the sight of his employer.

It was difficult to see; the water was murky brown. But soon enough he saw Aimee; her tiny body floating limp in the water as blood drained from a new cut on her arm, head thrown back with her hair floating about like a halo of curls.

He knew all that blood was going to attract a Mirelurk, or _worse;_ a Mirelurk Hunter.

Charon wrapped his arm around her waist and began bringing himself back up to the surface. Her face hit the surface sooner than his did, and he didn't waste time getting her to safety by relishing a couple lungfuls of sweet air.

_Have to get to land. Have to get to land…_

Wrapping her arms around his neck, he gave long strokes to the waves, swimming towards the rocky shore below the bridge where he threw her onto the thick sand, crawling up afterwards to look down at her.

He placed his ear against her mouth, staring down at her chest for any breathing.

She wasn't.

"Damnit Aimee…" He growled and tilted her head back, clasping her nose shut with two fingers.

He _knew_ he was probably going to get smacked for this...

Charon pressed his dry lips against hers and brought air into her.

He pulled back. No change, no reaction, and he clasped his hands together with one on top of the other. He pressed down onto her chest repeatedly, trying to get her to come to. But he felt something strange under her flesh… He had to lighten up on her.

"C'mon… _C'mon!_" He snarled and leaned an ear down to her mouth again, still no breathing. Bringing his lips up to hers again he gave her another deep breath, and slightly pulled back in surprise when water shot out of the confines of her small mouth and into the back of his throat.

Charon rolled her on her side slightly so she could cough up the lake water, heaving roughly with choked gasps and shaking shoulders.

He gave a deep sigh and toppled back from her onto the sand, finding comfort in lying on his back and closing his eyes in relief that she was okay. The only thing between them was his shallow pants and her labored breathing.

"Ch-Charon?..." She questioned.

"Yes... Aimee?" He breathed out exhaustedly.

God, he was getting out of shape… Ahzrukhal did _nothing_ but sit at his bar, counting his caps and giggling to himself like a small child with a jarful of candy. It had been a while since he was with an energetic being.

She gave out a vague chuckle. "Fuck, you're using my first name!... That Deathclaw killed us didn't it?"

"No." He responded between breaths and rolled his head to look at her, giving a blunt tone of voice. "But you pissed it off enough where it _tried_ to kill us."

"So-Sorry. I saw it looking at you, and I- I panicked…"

"Why did you panic?" He asked bitterly.

"I just did."

"Well, you shouldn't have."

"But I did." She gave him a weak smile and opened her eyes. "Can't you just accept the fact that I'm trying to help you?"

"No."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I thought so…"

Silence once more.

"So," He slowly sat up and looked at her over a leather armored shoulder. "You're afraid of the dark but you're not afraid of angering a Deathclaw?"

"I guess so." Aimee chuckled. "I think I have a fear of water now, too." She slowly lifted herself up, grunting in a low tone of painful effort before giving up and gently laying back into the sand.

"If you _ever_ tell anyone I'm afraid of the dark I _swear_ I'll kill you."

"It's in violation of our contract. If you harm me, I have the right to psychically assert myself in means of defense." He stated and got up from the ground, patting sand off his armor.

Aimee scoffed. "I think I'm more afraid of you than I'm afraid of a Deathclaw…"

Charon gave her a cold glance over his shoulder.

"See! Right there! That's what I'm talking about!" Aimee winced under a forced chuckle. "Ow! Fuck…" She was feeling up her side with a tired hand. "One… Two… One, two…" She gasped. "_Three._"

The ghoul now knew why it felt strange giving her chest compressions. Her ribs…

"How many broken?" He asked firmly.

"Three." She replied.

"How many cracked?"

"Two… Plus my right arm is crippled… Can't move it."

Charon looked down to the arm with the cut on it. With a closer look at it now, it was actually quite a deep gash. She must have gotten it when she landed in the water; probably on a sharp rock or something.

He stepped towards her. "This is why you don't dance with a Deathclaw."

Aimee chuckled. "But it takes two to tango!" She joked before wincing. "Damnit he really _sucked_ at dancing…"

"I'll do what I can to heal you." He stated.

"C-Can't… Don't have what we need." Her bleary eyes gazed past him to the tin shack across the water. He looked over his shoulder to glance at it also.

_It's worth a shot…_ He figured.

Charon wrapped his arms underneath her, hooking her uninjured arm around his neck, and picked her up bridal style. He wasn't at all surprised by the fact that it felt that she weighed as much as a measly feather did.

"Charon?..." She mumbled to him as he set her down on the ground of the bridge, with her back propped against the railing for support, and began picking up their belongings, shoving them into her dropped bag and flinging it over onto his shoulders.

"Yes mistress?"

Aimee's full lips turned into a hard, white line of disapproval for how short a time it was that he referred to her by her name. She sighed, knowing she probably couldn't make him change his mind. Or his attitude.

"Thank you. For saving me." She smiled a little.

"It is my duty to protect you, mistress, for-"

"For good or ill. I serve you." Aimee mimicked him with a light chuckle, grunting again in pain. "I kn-know, I know… Why can't you let me do the same?"

"It is in my contract. I protect you. Not the other way around."

"Why can't it be a mutual thing?" She asked with a short sigh as he came back to her, picking her up from the ground gently just as he did earlier.

"Because it isn't." He replied bluntly as they began walking towards the far side of the bridge, towards the outdoor eatery he spotted last night.

Once they came to the end of the bridge and encountered solid ground, Charon tried not to give any reaction other then the nervous twitch in his neck, which Aimee saw, when she broke the silence with this little number;

"Why does my mouth taste like Yum Yum's and Nuka Cola?..." She asked as she smacked her lips together, running her tongue over them. "God I'm hungry… Hey, look, it's Grandma Sparkle!"


	10. CHP 10: Mistakes And Misfires Happen

**A/N: Alright! I'm _probably_ going to be rewriting this chapter- it didn't come out exactly as how I wanted it =_=" I'm happy with it, but at the same time I'm not _satisfied_ with it, you know what I mean?**

**I hope you do D: If I end up rewriting it, I'll be sure to let you guys know!**

**I think I made Moriarty OOC... I haven't written for the guy before- sue me! But I like how I wrote Doc Church, I think his language comes off a little strong, but who cares! (I obviously don't xD)**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Charon rose soundly from his bundle of thin blankets and pillows in need of more filling on the cold, metal floor of Aimee's home in Megaton and rubbed his head. She claimed that she talked to some woman in town about getting a mattress for him soon; Mira, Mora- he didn't quite remember her name- not that it was important.<p>

Aimee was quickly stitched up by that crock doctor Doc Church and was sent merrily on her way so he could lock himself inside his clinic and bask in the caps he was given; that was three days ago, and she was disappointed to find out that she'd have to rest at home for quite a few days.

But Church came once a day to check in on her, so he supposed that the guy was okay. Still a hard-ass, but not as heartless as when they first met.

The ghoul knew Doc Church from back when he was the go-to guy for injuries in Paradise Falls, but a quick glance to each other created a private line of agreement; you keep your mouth shut, and I won't have to shove my boot down your throat.

Charon couldn't help but think about the encounter, and everything he learned.

_Aimee was well into unconsciousness as he gently laid her on one of the patient beds, looking back to the "Good Doctor" who he had awoken in the midst of his pleasant dreams in the middle of the night due to the ghoul practically kicking his clinic door down._

_Charon figured some "small talk" wouldn't get in the way of their previous pact of silence._

"_Hey, you're that slave from a while back. Char- Cher- something. I honestly don't give a fuck," Doc Church shrugged._

_So much for small talk…_

_Charon grunted in cold reply, looking back down to Aimee. "Three ribs broken, two cracked, and her right arm is crippled."_

"_If you got the caps, I got the know-how to fix up your little Saint here."_

_**Saint?... What the hell is he driving at?**_

"_My employer has more than enough caps to give you for your service once she has awoken." He replied shortly as he sat down on one of the empty beds next to hers, generating a groan of agony from the rusted springs in the mattress._

"_Never expected to see you around here, ghoulie. What are you doing running around with the Vault-Girl Wonder over here? Last I recalled, that prick Donnie got you."_

"_Donnie's dead." He gave the Doc an empty glance. "Lost my contract in a gamble. Paid for it with his life."_

"_Damn. I bet that scrap of paper has been tossed around more than a virgin in a fucking gangbang..." He murmured as he slowly, and very gently, tugged Aimee's tank top up over her head, revealing a ratty white bra underneath and a few fresh bruises. "What the hell did she run into?"_

"_Deathclaw."_

"_Ah." He replied simply, tossing the shirt to the side and lightly pressing his fingers into the bruises, gaining a slight whimper of pain from Aimee in her slumbering state. "Mind telling me what __**you're**__ doing here, with __**her?**__"_

"_Questions you have about my contract are to be directed at my contract holder."_

"_Contract holder? Aimee bought your contract?" He asked with slight disbelief in his rugged tone._

_Charon gave a simple nod._

"_Shit. Never thought the almighty Lone Wanderer believed in slavery…" His voice trailed away as he grabbed a stimpak from his pocket, uncapping the transparent crown over the sharp needle and quickly stabbed it into the gash occupying Aimee's upper arm, gaining another cry of pain from her full lips._

"_Lone Wanderer?" The ghoul asked curiously, looking up to the doctor._

_**Guess that's where his "Saint" and "Vault-Girl Wonder" remarks come into play… Lone Wanderer, heh?...**_

"_Yeah. Ever heard of the broadcasts Three Dog plasters all over that loud-mouth radio station of his? Talks about her like she was a fucking Goddess, and 'round these parts, she kinda is- if you catch my meaning."_

_Charon gave him a sharp look of warning._

"_She's not a whore or anything. But if staring at a nice piece of untouched candy were a crime, almost all the men in this fucking town would get tossed into the pit. Seems the "good girl" vibe she's flinging around is starting to get to the fantasies of these horn dogs."_

"_I will be sure to make a note of that." He replied in soft irritation and crossed his arms over his chest._

"_Hey, I'm all for new customers in my humble little clinic, but if 'ya don't want your "savior" getting kicked out by the town sheriff, you should probably keep your piece holstered."_

_Charon grunted to Doc Church in understanding, and slight thanks for the advice as he made another note to himself._

_**Don't shoot anyone. If you do, don't get caught.**_

"Morning Char-bear!" He heard a happy voice exclaim, and looked up to see Aimee hopping down the stairs two by two. She wore a black tank top and baggy grey cargos tucked into her boots. Her hair was held back from her face with a clip.

_Char-bear?_ He inwardly grimaced at the name. "Morning mistress. I see you are feeling better despite your injuries."

She giggled and jumped over the last few steps, landing on the floor steadily. "They weren't that bad. Just a few ribs and my arm, Doc Church has magic fingers 'ya know!"

Charon picked himself up from the floor and rolled up his bedding, shoving it under the workbench and grabbed for his shotgun on its top.

Before he went to sleep last night, he used the workbench to service his gun a bit. Aimee gave him free reign to her tools and her scrap locker, and also gave him one of her less valued shotguns from her weapon locker to use for spare parts on his.

He had never seen so much weaponry in a single place; her armory would surely put Paradise Falls' gun shop to pitiful shame.

"I'm sorry that you still have to sleep on the floor!" She apologized, stepping past him to the kitchen to pull out two Nuka-Cola's and a plate of iguana bits, coming back to him. "Moira promised that she'd come find me the moment a mattress comes through Megaton. But, I have a feeling that we'll have to drag one back here ourselves."

He knew it wouldn't be a problem to take one back to Megaton due to his strength, but his contract was for battle and protection purposes, he wasn't a rotting Brahmin- he was a rotting bodyguard.

And bodyguards don't have "manly" nicknames like "Char-bear".

…That nickname was definitely a new one to him.

"Eat up, we're going to set out soon. There's something I've been meaning to do…" Aimee spoke in an impassive voice as she leaned into the wooden bookshelf that rested below her staircase, daintily picking up bits of roasted iguana from the plate with her fingers and bringing them to her mouth.

She held out the second Nuka-Cola to Charon with a swallow of her food and a grin.

"Don't worry, I have enough food in my fridge to feed Rivet City."

With a small raise of his- er, brow muscle- he took the Nuka-Cola and practically drank it down in one heaping gulp and looked back to her.

"What is it that you need to do?" He asked.

She seemed lost in her thoughts, cause she continued to stare down into the floor with blank eyes, no longer touching the food on the plate.

"Mistress?" He called quietly, stepping towards her. "Hey, Aimee!"

"Hu-Huh?" She abruptly blinked and looked back up to him with a smile. "Yeah?"

"What-" He sighed. "Never mind."

She cocked her head at him strangely before shrugging it off, taking his empty bottle back to the kitchen to clean up their mess before going to her weapons locker and yanked open a door, hauling out a strange holster.

It had a lot of straps, and had two pistol holsters to each side. He remembered seeing detectives wear them in glitzy movies and stuff from back in the pre-war times, but he never knew what they were called… _Shoulder holsters?..._

Anyways, she slipped her frail arms through them and pulled it down to make sure it was snug before dipping her hands back into the locker to pull out two 10mm pistols and put them in the holsters, closing the doors and spinning on her heel to look at him with a smile.

"You ready to go?"

"Of course."

-:-

"Alright, what is this about?" Moriarty asked snidely as Aimee closed the door of the backroom and the old Irishman strolled over to his computer terminal and plopped down in front of it.

"You _know_ what this is about, Moriarty." She hissed, and the venom in her voice caused Charon to glance over to her.

_Huh. So she __**can**__ be serious when she wants to be._

"Oh, _do_ I now?" He replied mockingly, a grin coming to his face. "Well if 'ya want to do business, my offer still stands."

"No." Aimee shook her head, pointing an accusing finger at him. "_You_ screwed me over! I took care of Silver for you, gave you the caps, and you _still_ won't give me information on my father!"

_Her father?..._ Charon had several jigsaw pieces of her life in his decayed hands; her life in the Vault, her father's absence, her skill out in the Capital Wasteland- now he just had to see how they all fit together…

Moriarty shrugged, leaning forward onto his knees. "That's not me problem. It's 300 caps- _nothin' less_."

"Wha-_What?_" She howled, stomping her foot down rather childishly and crossing her arms over her chest. "It was 100 caps before!"

"Well, I looked back over me records and found that that druggie bitch Silver took more than I accounted for. The payment is 300."

"_Fuck you Moriarty!_" The little lone wanderer boomed, lunging at him.

If it wasn't for the ghoulish arm that shot out to grab her by the scruff of her shirt, the saloon owner would be on the floor with a _very_ pissed off Aimee beating the crap out of him.

She gave Charon a sharp look over her shoulder, and he sent one of his own, meaning she'd have to keep her cool and stay calm and collected.

"'Ya know, that's another option of _payment_ as well if 'ya don't have the caps," Moriarty spoke in a low voice.

If it wasn't for the fact that one of his hands was on Aimee's collar, Charon would have strangled the horny bastard himself. But she did enough damage when a small sound of an inhale came from her lips, and she spit directly into the man's face.

He frowned and wiped the gleaming substance from his cheek and shook it off from his fingers.

"Why you little _bitch_," He snarled, getting up from his chair.

But the ghoul was faster. He pulled Aimee back so she was behind him, and using his free hand, his shotgun was out and outstretched so the barrel connected with the region between Moriarty's eyes.

"Lay a hand on her, and I'm sure you'll spend the rest of the day picking up the pieces of your face." Charon warned, his impassive glance turning into a lethal narrow-eyed glare.

"I wasn't gonna lay a hand on that _beautiful_ body o' hers," Moriarty grinned, calculating the best course of action and decided to sit back down. "And who might _you_ be?"

"He's a friend of mine." Aimee replied shortly as she pushed past the tall ghoul to glare at the old saloon owner.

"A _friend?_" He replied with disbelief.

_A friend?_ Charon wondered bitterly, trying not to break his glare from the man in front of him to look down to his employer.

He was no friend of hers. Just a bodyguard bound by an unfortunate contract to the most immature young adult he had _ever_ seen in his decades of ghoulified existence.

"Ghouls don't make for good friends Aimee," Moriarty continued, motioning an uncaring hand to the bodyguard. "People with _caps_ make for good friends."

"Again- _fuck you!_" She roared, lunging at him again to only be caught by Charon and reigned in to stand behind him.

"'Ya know you want to." He winked mockingly, and got up from his seat. "I believe if you've only come here to bicker with me, your job is done and you should be leavin', now."

"Don't dismiss us!" Aimee retorted. "I want what I was promised! Information on my father!"

"And you know how to obtain it. You're the one making it difficult for yourself, lass." Moriarty replied uncaringly and pointed to the door with a firm finger. "Now out."

"_No!_" She howled desperately, lunging forward once more to be foiled by Charon- once more. "_I'm not leaving till I get what I want!_"

Charon knew how to handle this once and for all. He was good at shaking down guys like this- guys who believed they were on top of the world just because the caps were good to them.

Ahzrukhal was no different from this Irish asshole.

But as he pulled Aimee back, and gave her a look to stay put, she gave what sounded like a throaty growl. It reminded him of a raging Yaoi Guai but he pressed it to the back of his mind as he looked back up to the saloon owner.

"Well? Shall you be leaving now?" Moriarty asked crudely.

And as Charon pulled his shotgun to himself, still aiming it for the region between those unflinching eyes, the door opened behind him.

"Mr. Moriarty, I-" A raspy voice, shredded by the effects of radiation was cut off as the door smacked into Aimee, sending her sprawling forward.

"_Charon!_"

Before anyone had known what happened, the room rang out with a loud _BOOM._

The noise was followed by a bloody explosion of brain matter as the headless Irishman collapsed to the floor, the spraying aftermath evident on the walls, stretched across the terminal screen, collected on the floor…

"_NO!_" Aimee screeched, running toward Moriarty to land on her hands and knees in front of his corpse. "No, no, no, no, _no!_"

"Ho- Holy shit…"

Charon turned his gaze over his shoulder to meet the horrified face of the ghoul he had seen earlier. He was working behind the counter when they came in and requested Moriarty's company in the backroom. His milky eyes were staring down at Aimee, her body trembling over his ex-boss.

The ghoul tensed once he realized that Charon's eyes were smoldering down on him.

"_Get out._" The bodyguard cocked his shotgun as a warning.

The strange ghoul was more than willing to oblige as the door slammed shut between the two, then he looked back to his employer.

Aimee was still on her hands and knees, slowly coming back to sit on her heels as she ran quivering fingers through her short curls, shaking her head as she did so.

"Mistress?" Charon called, stepping towards her with his shotgun harmlessly at his side.

She didn't look up- the way she was mumbling things to herself… It was as if she wasn't at all _there._

"Aimee," He called again, grabbing her by her arm to haul her to her feet. "He's gone."

Charon wasn't quite sure what had happened. All he remembered was the door opening, her tripping and calling his name, then- his shotgun…

"I- I'll never find dad now…" Her voice cracked, looking back at him. "Yo-Your shotgun… You _killed_ him!"

He wanted to say it was an accident. But would she have ever believed it? It was obvious that Moriarty was a threat to his employer- a small threat, but a threat nonetheless. He had _every reason_ in the fucking book to shoot his brains out with the chime of an exploding shell.

But he held his explanation in the place behind his teeth as she pushed past him, ripped the door open and ran out with the tears rolling down her pale cheeks.


	11. CHP 11: Galaxy News Radio, Ahoy!

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, so, Charon is kinda pissed off in the beginning e.e... Seemed a little OOC at first, but given the situation... (MY LAST CHAPTER SUCKED MAJORLY! SO DOES THIS ONE! But it'll get better towards the enddd~ I think... And keep getting better after this cause cool stuffs is gonna happen :D!)**

**I've written 24 FHACKING chapters for Aimee's story, this is _so far_, dunno how many more is gonna be written ==" but I like the turn this story is taking! (Sorta, feel like I'm rushing the relationship in later chapters, but that's for YOU to decide!)**

**Anyways, hope you enjoy! As a heads up, the next chapter will be posted on August 30th. I got NO reviews for the last chapter (CHP 10), and I assumed it was either because it sucked, horrifically- OR it was because people are back in school and therefore far too busy to review~ (hoping it's the latter... But I'm thinking about rewriting chapter 10...)**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Charon stood in front of Aimee's house with his back pressed to the wall next to the door. He knew she was in there- the lights were on- but the door was locked, and no matter how many times he knocked or called for her, she refused to answer the door.<p>

_Damn this kid…_ He groaned inwardly and shuffled over to a nearby table and plopped down into the chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

Looking to the Nuka-Cola bottle that rested on top, he swiped it off with a firm backhand and watched it shatter on the ground, the pieces sliding across the metal.

_Damn this fucking kid!_ Charon seethed again, caressing his throbbing temple with his mangled fingers and he closed his eyes. He hadn't been _this_ tired in a long time- the girl was seriously wearing him down…

Locking him out of the damn house was frustrating and _completely_ immature!

But he supposed he deserved it for the misunderstanding earlier…

He sighed and leaned back into his chair. It wasn't his place to whine; if it was something she wanted to do, he wouldn't object it. He would listen and obey- something he was taught to do from a long time ago when he became one with a sheet of paper.

The paper became weathered and worn, just like him. The edges were curled and the body was creased from how his former employers handled it- folding then refolding then unfolding for whatever the reason was for. To gaze upon as a reminder that they had protection, a means of barter when they were too fucked on some addiction to think straight at the time, or just to wave in his face and remind _him_ that he wasn't a human anymore.

He was a ghoul.

A Piece of property.

Nothing _more._

Which is why it infuriated him to _finally_ see someone not doing _any_ of that!

Aimee was treating him like he was human, like he was a _man_ again. She treated him like he had feelings, and like he had a name- Charon. Not ghoul, zombie, shuffler, grave lover, or any other colorful names he was given due to his height or his "profession" or his current state of tattered body.

She would say "Char-bear, could you help me with this, please?" not "Ghoul, get your fucking rotting ass _over here _and fucking do this!" She would say "thank you" when he warned her that an area wasn't safe instead of telling him to shut the hell up. She was giving him a _bed _when all of his former employers wouldn't even bother to toss him a Stimpak if he was injured.

Not that he needed it; _radiation _healed ghouls, not Stimpaks.

_Why is she doing this?_ Charon wondered. _I'm just a ghoul bodyguard- and she acts like I'm her new best friend._

His eyelids snapped open when he saw a mattress being heaved onto him, and he quickly jumped out of the way as it collided into his chair, pushing it back and landed on the ground with a bright red-haired woman next to it.

"_Oooow!_" She whined, sitting up to rub her head. "I _knew_ I should have gotten Billy to help me with this…"

Charon quickly stifled his habitual bodyguard instincts as the woman looked up to him, smiling happily.

"Why, hello there! I'm Moira Brown, and who are you?" She pushed herself up from the ground and patted the dust off of her RobCo jumpsuit.

"Are you looking for Aimee?"

She nodded. "I'm here to drop off that mattress she asked for!"

"She is inside." He grunted as he picked it up from the ground.

"Really? Huh…" Moira scratched her head. "I saw her leaving her house earlier. She got back quick!" And with a shrug of her shoulders, she turned to Aimee's home and knocked on the door.

With a short sigh, Charon stood behind the woman with the mattress under his arm. He looked down onto Megaton as she continued to knock, calling out for his employer.

It was a quaint town- the bomb would have made him a nervous wreck but from what Three Dog shouted over GNR, the thing was nothing but a harmless attraction because of Aimee. The people were okay and none of them were a threat to her so far, but it wasn't safe to say that someone wouldn't try to cause trouble for their neighborhood heroine just yet.

"Well, Aimee isn't answering!" Moira sighed and reached up to a light that was bolted down on the wall on the outer side of the door frame. "I can't- _reach_ her extra house key!"

…He was _so _stupid.

Figures she'd be dumb enough to leave a spare key around the door, a friendly invitation for anyone who wanted to help themselves to her weapons locker and the other random crap she had lying around.

And now, here he was with the option of telling her, or _not_ telling her, that it was a safety risk.

He could tell her because it was his job as her bodyguard to keep her safe and alert her of any dangers.

Or he could _not_ tell her so she could learn the hard way.

With a string of grumbles escaping his dry lips, he reached his arm out so it overshadowed Moira's head and grabbed for the key, handing it to her.

"O-Oh! Thank you!" She smiled and put the key in the lock, turning it to have the door click and open. "Wadsworth!"

"Hello, Madame Moira!" The hovering bot called as he came from the small corner of the kitchen. "Mistress Aimee is not home at the moment."

"She's not?" She stepped in with Charon following behind her, and he carelessly propped the mattress against the bobble head stand. "He said that she was home…" She pointed at him.

"Ah, yes, Master Charon!" Wadsworth exclaimed and turned to him. "No, I'm so _sorry_ to say that she hasn't been home for about an hour or two, now. I believe she came back, packed up her bag, and left once again. She did not say how long she would be nor when she would return."

"Well, I came to drop off that extra mattress she wanted! I didn't expect that I'd get one so soon…" Moira mumbled to herself as she looked over to Charon. "Say, you're pretty _strong!_ Would you be interested in doing a job or two for me?"

"No." He replied simply as he walked out of the house.

"No?" She repeated, following him out to have Wadsworth hover in the doorway. "I'll pay you if you do!"

"I'm only interested in my Mistress." Charon grumbled as he went down the walkway to the first floor of the town.

"Mistress?... Oh!" Moira turned back to the bot. "Does he mean Aimee?"

"Master Charon is indeed referring to Mistress Aimee." He confirmed.

"Are they- _you know…_" She blushed at the thought of a human and a ghoul being together.

"I believe that the Mistress is not in a relationship of any sort with the ghoul."

"Oh, alright! By the way, is Aimee-"

"Would you look at the time! I believe that the silver needs polishing, please excuse me Madame Moira!" Wadsworth hurriedly excused her with the slam of the door.

"Okay…" She murmured to herself as she walked down the sloping walkway as well, suddenly stopping to scratch her head. "_Wait a minute!_ Aimee has silver?"

-:-

Charon overlooked the first floor of Aimee's humble abode, leaning his elbows into the railing with his hands overlapping at the wrists and he tugged his fingerless gloves off to massage the exposed muscles that faced him.

His fingers were getting stiff, it had been _two whole days _since he shot something last… And Aimee had been missing since last night. He left to go and find her, scout the area to maybe find her running away from a Molerat, but he found nothing and figured that the best course of action was to wait at her house.

_What now?_ He wondered as he slipped his glove back on and repeated the process with his other hand.

Was this her way of saying he was fired?

Half of him hoped it was, while another half of him hoped it wasn't.

If he was indeed fired he'd have to travel back to Underworld and reside there till someone seemed fit to take his contract.

Not that he had a choice in who his employer was; he'd have to toss it to whoever showed the slightest interest in it.

The ways of his contract weren't perfect, but nothing was no matter how much we want it to be.

Charon looked to the curly inscription that was burned onto the backside of his hand.

_Rharken…_ His mind echoed as he closed his eyes.

It felt like only yesterday was he in that fucking trade back west… He still was- but in a different time and in a different place.

But before he could let himself delve too deep into the horrid memories a hard knock came from the door, and he snapped his head up to scowl at the noise. He leisurely went down the stairs as the knocks became harder and hurried.

"_Mistress Aimee has directed that the door not be answered when she is not home._" Wadsworth called in a singsong voice from the back room.

"She has not directed such a thing from me," Charon countered as he pulled his glove back on and unlocked the door, pulling it open.

"O-Oh! Uh, hey…" The ghoul in front of him started awkwardly.

_The ghoul from the Saloon…_ Charon grunted in reply, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"I- er- well, I found something that Aimee might wanna have." He awkwardly held out a piece of folded paper to him.

He took it and quickly unfolded it as the ghoul- Gob, was it?- in front of him shifted from foot to foot nervously, and his eyes quickly darted over the page.

"This is the whereabouts of Aimee's father." Charon stated as he looked back to Gob.

He nodded. "Ye-Yeah… After you deep-sixed Moriarty, Nova- the prostitute who used to work for the bastard- found his terminal password and decided to go poking around… She found that," He pointed to it. "And we wrote it down to give to Aimee."

"I see." Charon nodded. "I will be sure to give it to her."

"Sure! Yeah. Just tell her I stopped by… And, uh, we wanted to thank you…"

"Thank who?" He asked, slightly confused.

"Char-bear? Gob?"

The two ghouls looked up to see Aimee standing behind the barter with her pack slung over her shoulder, scratches and bruises tattering her body and a thin coating of dirt on her face.

"Oh! Hey Aimee!" Gob smiled at her. "I just came by to drop something off for you."

"Really?" She glanced over to Charon with a questioning stare. "Well, why don't you come inside? It's a bit cooler in there then it is out here."

"I guess the Saloon can sit closed for the rest of the day…" He mused as he followed Aimee in and she shut the door, tossing her pack to the floor.

"I see Moira stopped by," She commented, nodding her head to the mattress and turned her head up over her shoulder to look to Charon.

He gave a small rumble of a reply and handed her the sheet of paper, then leaned to the workbench top.

"What's this?" Aimee asked as she began to unfold it.

"The information you wanted on your dad from Moriarty." Gob replied.

But before he could even answer the question, her eyes had widened and were darting wildly across the page as her jaw dropped down in disbelief.

"How did you _find this?_" She asked, looking over at him.

"Nova found it, actually. She went poking through his terminal and found that, so she thought you might want it." He gave a playful wink to her as a warm smile boiled his chapped lips.

"Gob- I don't know- I don't know _how to repay you!_" She shrieked happily as she ran over to the ghoul, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly.

Charon had never seen a ghoul blush in his life- but he supposed there was a first for everything…

"Thank you!" She pecked him on his ragged cheek. "Thank you, thank you, _thank you!_" She exclaimed, pecking him again each time she repeated the phrase.

Seeing a human kiss a ghoul on the cheek was _also_ a first for Charon, and he didn't quite know what to make of it.

But before he could question it even further, she ran over to him and jumped up to wrap her arms around his neck as well.

"Char-bear we're going to find my dad!" She pulled back. "Oh my God, we need to pack! We need to _leave!_ Right now!" She exclaimed as she tore away from him and grabbed for her pack and darted up the stairs.

"Wha-What?" He stammered, looking to the still blushing Gob who grazed his kiss-ridden cheek. "Where are we going mistress?"

Charon looked back up to the opening of the second floor as she hopped onto the railing and landed gracefully on his feet in front of him, handing him an empty backpack with a hopeful grin on her face.

"We're going to Galaxy News Radio."


	12. CHP 12: Aimee's Lone Adventure

**Author's Note: Well, for those of you who read this and were like "Where did Aimee go for those two days?" Well, here's your answer :D Because I heard that SOME of you go to some pretty weird places...**

**Yes, I'm talking to you Valkyrie225 . But nonetheless, I appreciate your review!**

**So enjoy :D 'Cause I know Aimee felt bad for leaving Charon in the bar like that to disappear for two freakin' days ... BAD LONE WANDERER!**

**Reviews are appreciated~**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Wiping her eyes of the tears, Aimee hurried from the bar and out into the open, slamming into the railing opposite of the door and taking greedy lungfuls of the dry air that made her mouth feel even drier.<p>

_What- What happened?_ Her mind fumbled, frayed with the image of Moriarty's headless body collapsing to the floors as the remnants of his head collected to the walls with splatters of cranium and grey matter.

All she remembered was the sound of Gob's voice, the door hitting her, and then a loud _BOOM_ of Charon's shotgun…

Aimee shook her head of any memory of the Irishman literally falling to his knees. The world was better off without him anyways- right?

Gob was.

Nova was.

Lucas Simms was.

_Everyone_ who lived in Megaton was.

Then why was she so upset?...

_I'll never find dad now…_ Her shoulders trembled as she clutched onto the railing for balance of the dizzying thought. Her father was out there, somewhere, and now he would be lost from her- forever…

And all Aimee could think was; _what now?_

The door to the saloon opened behind her with a shriek and closed just as loudly, almost drowning out the sound of light footsteps leisurely walking to her.

"Hey sweetheart," She looked up to see Nova sit on the railing next to her, her soft face holding the most serious expression the little Lone Wanderer had ever seen from her. "You okay?"

Aimee flicked her eyes away from her and down onto Megaton, letting herself count the people who walked around the metal slopes and creaking ramps- _one, two, three- wait, didn't I already count that one?_ And then began to recount just so she could focus on something else.

"Gob told me about what happened with your hunk of ghoul and Moriarty…" Nova began quietly, coming to her feet to lean a hip into the railing, eyes still on her face.

She gave a solid swallow, trying to keep the bile from rising in her throat. "I- I'm sorry, Nova…"

"_Sorry?_" She asked in a dumbfounded tone, rolled knuckles coming to her hips. "Now _why_ would you apologize for the death of Colin-fucking-Moriarty?"

Aimee gave a somber chuckle. "I honestly don't know why I'm apologizing in the _first_ place…"

Nova finally looked down to the town, leaning back into the railing and crossed her arms over her perky chest.

"Gob wouldn't let me see the old man's body. He knew I would have grabbed the bat we keep behind the bar and given his rotting carcass a couple of good whacks just to make sure he was dead." She gave a morbid chuckle. "What your friend did was a miracle… A bloody fucking miracle."

The sound of Charon's shotgun roaring and one of Moriarty's detached eyes flying into the air and bouncing on the floor to tap against her boot ricocheted in the walls of Aimee's frightened mind, and before she knew it, she was unloading the contents of her stomach over the railing.

"Hey! _Easy_, sweetheart, easy…" Nova cooed as she rubbed her convulsing back in comforting circular motions, using her other hand to hold back her brunette curls. "Are you okay?"

Aimee shook her head and spit out whatever vile stuff remained in her mouth and wiped it from her chin with the back of her hand. If noodles didn't taste good going down, they _certainly_ wouldn't taste any better coming back up…

"He knew… Moriarty knew-" She choked, bone-dry once again and her tongue felt like it could have shriveled up and she gave another spit of whatever saliva the confines past her lips could muster.

"Moriarty knew what, Aimee?" She furrowed her brows worriedly.

"He knew where my father was…" And for the first time the entire conversation, Aimee allowed her eyes to meet Nova's. "He knew where my father was and demanded that I pay him for the information- but the old fart double-crossed me…"

Nova snorted with amusement, a smile coming to her face as she continued to rub her back.

"I'm sure the bastard would be turning in his grave right now if he heard you calling him an old fart."

That made Aimee smile a little- from the moment she met Moriarty she felt that he was an old dog trying to learn new tricks, it was only a matter of time before _someone_ called him out and reminded him that he was well past his golden years. But she sort of wished she could have done it while he was alive, just to see the fuming look on his face.

"And figures Moriarty would try to pull a fast one. He did- _used to_- do it to Gob and me all the time." Nova's smile faltered slightly. "Charging us for whatever we ate, drank, and room we slept in. It was like for every cap we paid back, it would lash back at us with a doubled debt. It was how he kept us here…"

"What are you two going to do- now that he's gone?" She asked quietly.

"Sweetheart, that's not the important question right now. The important question is what are _you_ going to do now that he's taken your father's location to his grave?" Her brows furrowed together again and her smile completely revolved into a concerned frown.

"I- I don't know…" Aimee shrugged hopelessly- _helplessly_ seemed like a term that was more appropriate- and ducked her face away from her with a shake of her head. "I don't know anymore…"

"Hey," The ex-prostitute's slender fingers tucked under her pointed chin, making her turn her head up to look back at her. "You'll find him. Ask around the town- you couldn't have already asked _everyone_ for information on your dad!"

"I did…" She answered quietly, eyes starting to tear up. "And they all said Colin Moriarty was the only answer…"

"Oh, Aimee…" Nova replied sympathetically, hugging her close and rubbing her back again. "I'm sorry. If there was any way I could help- I'd do it in a heartbeat for everything you've done for Gob and me."

"I know you would." Aimee spoke softly into the woman's shoulder, pulling back slightly to give her a halfhearted attempt at a smile. "I'm going to go take a walk- clear my head and come up with a way to fix all this…"

"Go down to Springvale and kill something," Nova suggested with a smile. "Might brighten your spirits a little."

She chuckled softly, giving a slight bob of her head. "I'm sure it would, Nova. I'm sure it would…"

* * *

><p>Aimee uttered a vicious roar as she made an upwards swing with a crowbar she found lodged into the wall of one of the many hallways in the Springvale School and struck home within a raider's gut, watching as he fell to his knees.<p>

Long strands of bleached white hair fell out of the red bandana that tied it back on his head and spilled over his boney shoulders.

"_Well, persistent little flower, ain't 'ya? Then and now, it would seem…"_

A deep, throaty growl of anger rang from her lips.

"Mo- Moriarty…" She snarled as the raider looked up at her with a fearful look in his eyes; they turned even wider when she held the crowbar above her head. "How's _this_ for a "persistent little flower" you old _fuck up?_" She howled, striking down on his face.

Aimee looked to the long blood splatter that stretched across a nearby wall as she wielded her weapon above her head again, swinging down again and again on the unfortunate soul cringing and screaming for mercy below her.

Even after the raider stopped moving, she continued on with her animalistic assault- beating out all of her anger and frustration.

When Moriarty's head was blown clean off his shoulders she had dropped to her knees and outstretched a pleading hand to the obliterated remains of his cranium. She ran her fingers through her hair then began scraping up chunks of the Irishman with her fingernails as if it would resurrect him, all the while praying to whatever God was listening that she was only dreaming and that she would wake up any minute from this horrific nightmare.

"Fu-Fuck you, _Colin Moriarty!_" Aimee continued to howl, stomping down the hallway and all the while dragging the bloodied weapon against the wall, leaving a crimson trail between her and her victim who was nothing more than a mess of broken limbs and a mass of horrid carnage.

She didn't want to bother with looting through the pockets- she knew she would regret that decision later but she didn't care. For now, all she wanted to see was red.

Red painting the walls.

Red tiling the floor.

Red paving the ceiling.

Red coating her hands…

But then, in the heat of the memory, she felt Charon's hand grab onto her arm from before and he had hauled her to her feet. Her body was completely numb at the time, but somehow she could still feel his touch- and it was gentle. Almost apologetic.

"_Aimee, he's gone."_

She finally realized that he had used her name. He _rarely_ used her name…

Who was this Charon that she didn't know? Was it still _her_ Charon?

Wait- when did _he_ become _hers?_

"_Lay a hand on her, and I'm sure you'll spend the rest of the day picking up the pieces of your face."_

His deep, raspy voice ringing in her head made her stop her walk with a cringe, dropping the crowbar to the ground with the sound of a metallic clatter.

Aimee had never seen that side of Charon before… As a bodyguard, he never said much, but that was the most she had heard come past his dry lips and it was in her defense. He would usually just push the threat away or shoot them on sight- but maybe, he knew better then to do that in this situation.

Wait- he knew better then to shoot Colin Moriarty.

And then she recalled again _exactly_ what had happened.

The door opened, and it was Gob requesting a word with his asshole of a boss.

The door slammed into Aimee, causing her to trip forward and slam into Charon.

Combat shotgun went off- _BOOM. _It echoed in her head again.

Colin Moriarty was dead on the floor before any of them could blink or even comprehend what had just happened.

_An- An accident…_ Aimee pressed her back to the wall and slowly slid down it, biting down on her quivering lip to keep her falling tears from turning into an audible sob. _It was an accident… A- misunderstanding…_

Why hadn't she seen it before? _Why?_

…Was it because she had to blame it on someone?

Of course- she just couldn't write it off as an accident because this man was the only hope she had of finding her father; she had to throw the blame onto someone, and Charon was the victim of her own misdirected fire.

She had _never_ felt this horrible in her entire life. She'd have to apologize to her Char-bear.

A sudden thought struck her reeling mind.

"_Oh shit!_" Aimee quickly got to her feet and grabbed for her abandoned bag off the floor that lay a ways from the fresh raider body, throwing it onto her shoulders as she darted down hallway amongst hallway, trying to direct herself to the exit.

She would first need to apologize to Charon for not telling him where she was going, or giving him a key to the house so he could get in without her.

_God _was she horrible…

Making a very loud exit from the school, she made a sharp left and ran up the cracked and decrepit road. Even with the running, it wouldn't make much of a difference, it would take several hours to get back to Megaton. Her hurried walk to get down to the Springvale School _alone _ate away a good part of her late afternoon and night so she could at least attempt to satisfy her insatiable blood hunger.

It was the late morning into Day Two of her tedious moment of ambushing the raiders- rather remarkably she might add, Charon would have been proud- and she felt deep inside that nothing she could do or say could justify her just up and running like that without telling him a damn thing.

Aimee scolded herself; she knew how long the trek was to Springvale. How could she not remember to tell him?

Maybe it was because she was still mad. At the time she didn't know what to think about Moriarty's death, it was a miracle she could even run out of that damned bar with her legs feeling as unstable and weak as the shake you get from Jell-O.

She _knew_ she had so much to apologize for…

After a while, her run turned into a sweaty jog, then turned into a heavily panting walk. The morning turned from cool to hot with the glaring of the sun as it rolled over to the afternoon, then became a bit cool again as the sun retracted its beams and lowered to the horizon lazily.

Aimee knew that running wasn't a smart option, especially in the heat- it was like the sneering sun reaped her of all her energy, and when it couldn't take anymore, it became just as weak as she did and lowered itself to the moon.

But over a rolling hill, she saw the outline of her home- Megaton- and the energy seemed to return to her with a sharp intensity.

And she began to run again.

Tripping once or twice, she ran up the long hill to the face of Megaton and began to run faster.

"Ah! Isn't it my favorite Lone Wanderer," Doc Hoff swooned contentedly, opening his arms in a grateful motion to her. "Welcome, welcome! To my traveling shop of medical wonders! Might I interest you with-"

"The Bloatfly juices? You already tried to get me with that before." Aimee replied as she began to near him.

"Oh?" He cocked an eyebrow, arms faltering slightly. "Then _might_ I suggest-"

"The corpse of a Yaoi Guai cub that could bring me good health if I pet it every night before I go to sleep?" She cut him off as she stepped in front of him.

His grateful motion faltered even more. "Well… How about-"

"Already tried the deep-fried Deathclaw hide." Aimee rejoined impassively as she ran past him and the doors to Megaton slid open for her. "Tasted like raw Radroach!"

Doc Hoff gave a short sigh of frustration as his arms completely dropped to his sides. He supposed that his customers could only buy into his "medicinal remedies" for so long before the caps dried up…

He finally decided that he was in Megaton long enough.

The large steel slabs of the town's gate slid shut behind her with an ear piercing shriek as she continued to run down the metal walkway of the town, almost slamming into Lucas Simms.

"What in the _world?_" He tilted back his hat to get a better look at the stranger, smiling with relief when he recognized that it was just Aimee. "Where are you off to in such a hurry, kid?"

"Home, can't talk now, _bye!_" She replied hastily and inched past him, dodging right and turning to go up the metal ramp that led to her humble home.

But she stopped when she saw Gob standing outside, Charon in the doorway holding a piece of paper crinkled with freshly folded edges.

"Thank who?" Charon asked with impassive question, blue eyes intensely burning down on the sweet bartending ghoul with that familiar scowl on his face.

"Char-bear? Gob?" She called quietly, but still loud enough where they could hear her.

Gob wheeled around to face her, Charon's eyes flickering up to her with his scowl dissipating once falling upon her dirtied face and body wrecked with fresh scrapes and bruises.

"Oh, hey Aimee!" Gob offered a warm smile. "I just came by to drop something off for you."

"Really?" She swallowed back the horrid feeling creeping back into the pit of guilt that weighed down in her heart as she looked up to Charon. "Well, why don't you come inside? It's a bit cooler in there than it is out here."

"I guess the Saloon can sit closed for the rest of the day…" He replied with no hesitance whatsoever as he followed the exhausted Lone Wanderer into her home and she closed the door with a soft slam.


	13. CHP 13  Gob's Got A Job To Do

**Author's Note: Gob's got a job to do, and boy, it ain't pretty. Maybe Aimee kissing him makes it a whole lot better despite the death glare Charon is currently giving him xD!**

**Alright, so if you're a loyal reader, you may notice that this new chapter was posted... -looks to calendar- 3 days after the previous chapter, when the usual wait time is a week! Boy, do I spoil you guys... -shakes head- ****I'm going to be honest with you guys- I've written 31 chapters for Another War For Your Textbooks. A lot, isn't it? That's a hell of a lot of writing on my part... I was working over time during summer break, I turn into a hermit during school holidays lmao =_="**

**Anyways, because this chapter is relatively short I just decided to throw it up to get back on track instead of waiting a week. But have no fear, readers! Chapter 14 _will_ be posted on September 6th nonetheless, so keep an eye out for it.**

**Seriously- I spoil you guys WAY more than I should...**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"Thank you!" Aimee pecked Gob on his ragged cheek. "Thank you, thank you, <em>thank you!<em>"

He stood there, blushing for all he was worth as a man absent of enough skin to properly cover his body- _as a ghoul_- as Aimee planted kiss after kiss after kiss on his exposed cheek.

It would have been _completely_ enjoyable and not in the slightest bit awkward if her bodyguard wasn't staring at him like that… What was his name again?

He could tell that the six foot-something rock solid ghoul standing in front of him could probably rip his arms off and smack him around with them if he gave him a simple funny look; but he made no move to pull Aimee from him, despite the fact he looked like he didn't like what was going on one bit…

The situation was awkward in itself; he randomly shows up with information on Aimee's father after Moriarty was killed, thanks to Nova armed with the Irish bastard's terminal password. The woman was an angel disguised in a skimpy outfit and fishnet stockings.

Then here this guy was- the ghoul who protected her- and Gob wondered how the guy got to where he was with Aimee.

_Are they-…_ He tried to mentally shake off the thought. If they were, which he highly doubted, the guy probably would have grabbed for the nice combat shotgun on the workbench behind him and shot the rest of his face off.

Just when Gob was getting a little bit comfortable with her kisses, she pulled back from him and ran over to the other ghoul and tossed her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. It was funny to see- due to her being 4"9' and he was- again, six foot-something- she had to actually jump up in order to collar him.

Plus, he tensed up at it. The guy didn't look like he was the cuddly type…

"Char-bear we're going to find my dad!" Aimee pulled back with her eyes shining brightly, when realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh my God, we need to pack! We need to _leave!_ Right now!" She squealed excitedly as she turned away and sprinted up the stairs.

Gob let his rough fingertips caress his cheek, riddled with reminders of Aimee's smooth lips, and he winced slightly when Charon glanced at him.

"Wha-What?" He stammered to his employer. "Where are we going mistress?"

_Mistress?... _Gob tried not to smirk._ Kinky._

Aimee suddenly dropped from the opening in the second floor and tossed him a deflated backpack with a grin full of straight white teeth that gleamed as brightly as her steel eyes.

"We're going to Galaxy News Radio."

There was silence amongst the three, strung out in a thin thread in the shape of a hard triangle before Wadsworth traveled down the stairs towards them.

"In order for you and Master Charon to embark on this little escapade for James, you will need caps, correct?" He asked in that smug, robotic tone, and Aimee immediately blinked with realization and grunted with irritation.

"I _so_ knew that…" She murmured as she ran her fingers through her hair.

Charon simply crossed his arms over his broad chest and shook his head slightly.

"That's not a problem! I have ways to get my caps!" She smiled, the bright glint returning to her eyes as she looked to Gob. "All that matters is that I know where he is now… I have a lead, thanks to you and Nova…" She darted to him, hugging him tightly around the neck again. "Thank you again, Gob."

With slight reluctance for the daggers that were currently being thrown at him, Gob returned Aimee's hug nonetheless with his arms around her waist.

Aimee pulled back slightly to look to Charon, but her arms were still around his neck. "Char-bear, I- I want to apologize…" She spoke quietly in a voice of shame.

"For what, mistress?"

"For running off like I did…" She slowly let go of his neck and went back over to Charon. "For not telling you where I was going, or that I was even leaving in the _first_ place… And I'm sorry for not leaving you a key to get into the house." She tried to repress a sad chuckle from that.

"It's fine. I understand that there was something you wanted to do that did not require me or my assistance."

_This guy sounds like a robot- or a broken record, or something…_ Gob mused. _Poor guy… Someone probably messed him up big time._

"It's not alright!" She cried, shook her head and walked over to him. "And worst of all, I'm sorry for getting upset with you over this… Over what happened to Moriarty."

Gob knew that he and Charon were feeling the same confusion right now, if the guy had a heart to feel with, anyways… But nonetheless, if the bodyguard _did_ feel anything, he was pretty damn good at hiding it from the both of them.

"Moriarty was, what I thought, the _only_ lead I had left to find my dad… When I saw his body, I-… I obviously freaked out and ran. I was so damned frustrated and angry that the world couldn't cut me some Goddamn slack, _just_ this once, and I-… I did something bad."

Charon's eyes flickered on her, silently asking for the answer.

"I blamed it on you, Charon, and that was the _worst_ thing I could have done in a situation like that. Because I didn't see it as an accident- I didn't _want_ _to_ I guess." Aimee explained with a halfhearted attempt at a warm smile, but it came out more as apologetic. "It's hard to explain."

"I understand, mistress." Charon nodded and pushed away from the workbench.

"So you forgive me?"

"Forgive you?" He questioned with a slight furrow of his brow muscle.

…_Is this guy serious?_ Gob wondered, and glanced over to Aimee as if asking for validation of his thought. _She looks like she's trying to train a confused puppy or something._

"Yes." She nodded, all the same. "And be honest with me. I'll understand if you don't forgive me, I'd be mad too!" She gave a dry chuckle.

"All is forgiven mistress." Charon nodded, arms folded in front of him. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Aimee smiled, giving a small breath of relief and nodded. "'Kay!" She turned to Gob. "Thanks again Gob, and tell Nova I said hey."

"Will do," He saluted her playfully and she gave another tight hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, then led him to the door and showed him out.

The last thing Gob heard before he waved and the door shut was Aimee suggesting something to Charon.

"Hey, I was thinking about helping Moira with that survival guide thing she's got going for our caps…" And the rest was cut off by the door.

With a happy sigh and a quick stretch, Gob went down the walkway gazing up at the warm afternoon sun. It was a beautiful day to be a free man- he wondered how Nova was enjoying the day with the saloon being closed.

He found out soon enough when he unlocked the door and made his way in, quickly locking it behind him and glanced up to see Nova at the counter with a bottle of whiskey, a cigarette, and wearing nothing but the nightgown she usually wore when she was with a john upstairs.

"Uh-" Gob began awkwardly, and she looked up at him with a small chuckle.

"You've seen me in _less_ than this, Gob." She teased.

"That was when you didn't have a choice, and you had to walk around half-naked anyways." He pointed out softly as he made his way over and pulled up the stool next to her, grabbing for a shot glass as well.

"I guess I do have a choice now, huh?..." She smiled slightly and took another measured sip from her glass. "We _both_ do… It's weird not having the old fart around, barking orders at us and being a prick."

Gob gave deep, gravelly laughter and looked to her with an arched brow. "Did you just call Colin Moriarty an old fart?"

"It was Aimee's choice of words, not mine." Nova countered, and the cigarette came to her full lips as she took a deep drag and blew the smoke out her nose. "How is she, by the way?"

"She walked up to the house just as I was giving her bodyguard the note we found on the terminal." He poured some amber liquid into the shot glass in front of him. "Looked dirty and a bit scraped up- figured she went out on some anger-fueled rampage."

"When she ran out yesterday, I suggested that she go down to Springvale to unleash that beast of hers." Nova explained, offering her cigarette to him, which he refused. "She gets _shit_ scary when she's pissed."

"Imagine how bad it would get if she got some alcohol in her…" Gob scoffed a little at the thought, and remembered something. "Remember when Jericho grabbed her ass while he was drunk and asked her how much it was for a "good time?"

"Of course I do!" Nova exclaimed with wide eyes. "Aimee picked up a damn table and threw it at him! The horny fossil doesn't remember a lick of it, oddly enough…"

"That chair went flying, too- knocked him in the head pretty bad." He reminded her and took a sip of his whiskey.

"Oh, right… Can't believe I forgot about that… That was before Moriarty pulled her aside and she began to question him about her father, right?"

Gob nodded. "Then she got kicked out 'cause she turned around and walloped him. I think he tried to get her to sleep with him for the information."

Nova laughed so hard, she almost fell off her chair.

"Oh my God! I had _never_ seen Moriarty so blue in the face, he was so fucking pissed that he got hit by a girl and lost a tooth." She snorted, taking a deep sip before taking a deep drag. "Bastard deserved it."

"To Moriarty-" He raised his shot glass. "Let God have mercy on his soul in whatever flaming pit he's currently rotting away in."

"And I hope it hurts like a sweet bitch, too!" Nova grinned, picking up her glass to agree to that toast. "Also, to Aimee and that ghoul she's with… We wouldn't be free if it wasn't for them."

"Yeah…" Gob nodded, smiling slightly at the tingly feeling that rolled across his kiss-ridden cheek. "To Aimee."


	14. CHP 14: Super Duper Mart Blues

**Author's Notes: Frick, I spoil you guys _sooooo_ much! D Jeeze Louise... Two new chapters in one week :T YOU BETTER BE GRATEFUL! -fist shake-**

**All that aside, this chapter is pretty much the beginning of the quest "Wasteland Survival Guide" that you can get from Moira!**

**Aimee needs caps for her little journey to Three Dog- therefore she's going on stupid suicide missions for the sake of research! YAY!**

**I'm sure Charon agrees that it's a little strange, as well... lol.**

**So without further ado, here is Chapter 14! Don't forget to leave a review, or Charon getting pounced on by Raider's will have all been for not D:!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee grumbled childishly to herself as she poked through the pockets of a dead raider, not finding much at all. There wasn't anything she could do with an empty Jet inhaler, 5mm ammo, and a frayed piece of surgical tubing.<p>

Yup. The Super Duper Mart was _really_ looking up…

In order to make the trip to Galaxy News Radio, she'd need better equipment- and she wasn't exactly drowning in shiny caps. She spent them stocking up on meds she needed, but she was paranoid if she didn't have a reliable stash.

Aimee needed better armor.

Aimee needed more Stimpaks.

Aimee needed to upgrade her arsenal, and get ammo for the guns she already had.

She wished Samuel could run off of random junk she found like a Rock-It Launcher could, because she was out of shells. Elaine did the job just fine but the poor 10mm SMG was screaming bloody murder for a tune up, and her jamming became a lot more frequent and convenient for the hostiles Aimee was faced with.

Of course, she _could_ have asked Charon for shells- but he was better with a combat shotgun then she was, and that was the only gun he liked using.

"Here," Charon spoke quietly in the darkness as he tossed her a bottle of Buffout, a few caps, and a syringe or two of Med-X. "Found all this in the boy's bathroom."

"Great!" She exclaimed as she picked through it, finally picking up the Buffout. "What should I do with this?" And looked up at him.

"What do you mean, mistress?"

"I don't like using Buffout!"

"Then sell it for caps." He replied obviously with a shake of his head, combat shotgun on his shoulder and his eyes glimmered in the low light of the grocery store.

"I think I saw the pharmacy around the corner, behind the counter." Aimee spoke as she began stuffing their loot into her pack. "We just need to get that medicine for Moira and we can get the hell out of here!"

"What is the point of this Wasteland Survival Guide, anyways?" Charon asked in a low tone, looking out from the bathroom hallway to make sure the grocery store floor was absent of movement.

"I dunno," She shrugged and got up from the floor. "Moira said it would help people! For the first chapter we have to-" Her arm rose up so she could fiddle with her Pip-Boy. "Scavenge the Super Duper Mart for medical supplies and food, go to Minefield's playground and get a land mine, _and_ obtain a high level of radiation poisoning."

He cocked his brow._ What the hell kind of Wasteland "Survival" Guide is this, anyways?_

Aimee walked past him with her pack slung over her shoulder and Elaine in her hand at her side.

_This damn thing is gonna get the kid killed._

But that was what he was for.

So he followed her, watching as she leapt over the counter and he simply slid over to land onto his feet and watch her crouch in front of the pharmacy door, searching through her pockets.

"Pharmacy key- _to the rescue! _" She hummed to herself as the door opened a crack and she got up, making her way in. "Uh, Char-bear? I think you should look at this!" She called from inside.

With a sigh and a few private grumbles, he shuffled in and stopped next to her, looking to the chamber an idle Protectron rested in. A terminal was on the counter next to it, along with several other things.

"Oh _yeah!_ I call mini nuke!" Aimee squealed excitedly as she ran over to the small bomb on the counter, picking it up to almost drop it and catch it at the last possible second.

Charon grabbed it from her, putting it into his own bag.

"_Awww-_" She whined, jutting out her bottom lip.

"I don't feel safe when there is a mini nuke in your possession." He replied bluntly and looked back to the Protectron.

_I've got a bad feeling about this…_

"Grab anything useful or tradable, lunch boxes and cherry bombs especially." Aimee cut his instincts as she shoved several Stimpaks, Jet inhalers, and some Med-X into her pack from the First Aid box tacked to the wall. "I'll poke around that terminal and see if I can get the bot up and working."

Charon nodded and began rampaging through the room, looking through metal box after metal box for things to Aimee's description but didn't find much. In the sea of empty whiskey bottles, he found a lead pipe, scrap metal, and Rad-Away on the shelves. He also found several boxes of 10mm ammo.

"I think I almost got it!" Aimee replied from her position in front of the terminal, her nimble fingers clacking away at the heavy keys and she gave a heavy sigh. "No, not yet… Damnit…"

He continued his search to the back of the pharmacy and found several bottles of Nuka-Cola, along with Nuka-Cola Quantum.

Quantum reminded him of cotton candy; pure sugar in a form that would attract the crowd.

Of course, kids liked shiny things, right?

"What's that!" Aimee shrieked as she grabbed a bottle from him, examining the glowing blue liquid and he heaved a short sigh.

Kids weren't the _only _ones who liked shiny things…

"**Loading personality… Protocol: 2396-BX- **_**Pharmacy Helper.**_**"**

The two looked up to see the Protectron stumbling out of its repair chamber, slowly grinding its torso this way and that to observe its surroundings.

"That's right. Aimee's got the _magic touch!_" She bragged, wiggling her fingers at Charon and he gave a small snort. "If only they could get that stick out of your ass…"

"The stick out of my ass?" He echoed as the Protectron stumbled towards them, and he immediately grabbed for his shotgun.

"Char-bear, it's a _Protectron._ Relax, for once! Jeeze Louise…" Aimee mumbled, running her fingers through her hair.

"I don't have a good feeling, mistress." He explained, refusing to lower his weapon.

"You _always _feel that way!" She replied in an irritated tone.

"It's because I am cautious."

"And I'm _not?_"

"You sometimes grow impatient and run head-first into the heat of danger."

"Do not!"

"Mistress, you do indeed."

"**Daily agenda loading: **_**ERROR!**_**"**

"Oh, _shut up_ you walking rust bucket!" Aimee cried, kicking it in the leg.

"**Identified: Angry shopper." **It turned to look at her.

"Er- what?" She arched an eyebrow, looking to Charon. The robot did so as well.

"**Security breach, detected. Identified: Hostile threat. Use of deadly force will begin- **_**now.**_**"**

With a short sigh of annoyance, he cocked his shotgun and aimed to shoot when Aimee jumped in the way. He immediately lowered his weapon.

"Mistress?"

She flashed a slim key card to the robot.

"**Employee I.D. recognized: Lawrence Browning- Pharmacist. Have a nice day, Mr. Browning."**

Aimee grinned, turning to look back at him. "I found it on top of the terminal. Thought it would be useful if we woke up the Protectron." She explained, looking back to the robot that slowly began to stumble to the door.

"_We're back! Could somebody- wait… Hold on a second! Somethin' ain't right here! Valentine, Frag, Charlie- scout._"

"What was that?" Aimee asked with a cautious expression, looking to Charon with her brow furrowed.

"The intercom. More raiders," He quickly went to the door and shut it, pressing his back to it.

_I knew this group was too small- too __**easy **__to take down… This must be the other half of the group…_

"Charon, what are we going to do?" She whispered, going towards him. "Samuel's drier then the Wasteland, Elaine could crap out any minute and I don't have any other weapons!"

"Here." He handed her the boxes of ammo he found. "For Elaine," He was used to referring to her weapons by their names- she'd throw a hissy fit if he didn't. "And here." Then handed her the lead pipe he found.

"Char-bear, you're awesome!" Aimee exclaimed gratefully, examining the pipe. "I think I'll call it… _Larry._ No! It doesn't look like a Larry…"

"Mistress, I apologize, but now isn't the time to be picking out a name for your new weapon." He reminded her in a low tone.

"Right- sorry! You can help me pick one out later!" She smiled.

"Uh- _sure._" Coming down to a crouch, Aimee followed suit and he quietly opened the door and slowly walked out, eyes scanning around to make sure no one caught their presence. He made his way to the robot waiting by the counter and peered up over, quickly ducking when a woman with bright green spikes for hair walked by.

"How many do you think there are?" She asked, loading up Elaine with ammo.

_The man on the intercom is one- and he mentioned three others._

"Four, maybe more." He replied plainly and looked up to the robot.

"Do you think we can use it as a distraction?"

Charon looked back to her, raising a brow. "Use what, mistress?"

"The _robot_, of course!" Aimee smiled, making her way to it and tapped it on the leg. "Uhm, excuse me?"

"**What do you require, miss?"**

"Do you see that woman with the green hair?" She pointed at her slightly over the counter. "I saw her stealing boxes of food. Her friends were doing the same!"

"**Identified: Shoplifter. Necessary force will now be issued."** And turning away from Aimee, walked from the counter to a nearby entryway and walked out to the main floor of the store.

The two kept their backs to the counter, Aimee winking smugly to Charon as the noises of a small battle were heard from the other side. Sounds of yelling and blazing guns infiltrated the otherwise silent air.

"What now?" He asked.

"We try and sneak out. If worse comes to worse, we'll shoot a few bastards." She grinned, when a loud explosion caused her to crane her neck and look over the counter, a smoking leg from the Protectron landed in her lap and caused her to shriek out with surprise.

"_What was that?_" A man called, and footsteps could be heard coming their way.

Aimee immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, using the other to shove the heavy robotic appendage off her.

It took the raider all about two seconds to find their hiding spot, switchblade in hand and a bloodthirsty grin on his face.

"This day just keeps getting better and _better!_" He cackled, yanking his goggles down over his eyes and ran at them with his blade.

Charon's leg came sweeping out, knocking the raider to his back and he stomped a boot down on his scrawny neck, shotgun pressed to his temple.

"You just brought a knife to a gun fight." He stated with a narrow-eyed gaze, and let his gun do the rest.

Aimee crawled over and pushed Charon's foot away, emptying pockets and taking anything useful. He swiftly kicked the switchblade to her, and she picked it up to flick it open.

"Poor condition, but salvageable. I can get parts from Moira." She responded as she put it away. "So that's one- how many more do we need to take care of?"

Charon glanced around the large store at the bent cans and milk bottles cluttering the floor, the item shelves in disarray, planks linking bridges between them… But there was no one walking around.

"There's no one there…" Aimee stated as she slowly stood up, putting her pack on her back. "Do you think they ran away?"

Raiders ran away when they started a fight they knew they couldn't finish. But no- the air was too tense… They were here alright. Just hiding.

"No. They didn't." Charon responded quietly as he slid across the counter with his shotgun scouting the area. He motioned to Aimee to follow him.

"_It's go time!_" A woman shrieked from above, and the ghoul looked up just in time to see two figures jump onto him from one of the shelves, pinning him down to the floor as if he were an animal. He helplessly watched as his shotgun slid away from his reach.

_Shit!_ He seethed, pushing one off to have a third one run over and help keep him subdued. _Shit… Wait- where's Aimee?_

The familiar click of his shotgun being cocked caused the three raiders to freeze, turning their faces up to look at her. Charon looked up as well to see a menacing look turning a pair of steely grey eyes hard and shiny in the dim light, thin brows created creases of anger on a small forehead and the edges of full lips were turned down into a frown.

It was Aimee- and she was holding his combat shotgun.

"Get off my Char-bear. _Now._" She demanded in a harsh voice, the heavy kickback of the shotgun not even making her flinch or stumble back as she pressed down on the trigger.

The spray of the shell imbedded itself into the side of the female raider with the green hair sitting on Charon's back, causing her to slam into the nearby shelves and crumple to the floor.

Aimee cocked the weapon again as Charon brought his leg up and stomped down onto the face of the raider holding his legs, breaking his nose and the man stumbled back, coming to his hands and knees on the floor to cradle his bloody nose in his hand. Another kick to the side sent him rolling across the floor.

Bumping the third raider away with her shoulder, Aimee pressed the shotgun to his chest and just as her finger collided down onto the trigger, he swat the weapon away, and the shells blew through the air with a loud noise.

"Charon!" She cried as the raider punched her in the gut and she dropped the shotgun. Another fist came flying into her face, sending her into a dizzying fall to the ground.

Charon's dry lips pressed together as he grabbed for the raider and shoved him to the shelf, pinning him there by his shoulder and doled out his own punch. His exposed knuckles collided with the raider's jaw, and blood splattered across the shelves with the whip of the man's head upon impact. But he punched again, and again, until the raider collapsed against the shelving from the assault and Charon grabbed for a fistful of the man's black mohawk, knee coming up to his face to do more damage.

Once he was finished, he turned back to see Aimee already up and looking through the pockets of the raiders they took down previously.

"Are you alright mistress?"

She looked up at him, the side of her porcelain face laced with a dark red impression from the force of the punch. If it didn't hurt now- it _certainly_ would later.

"I'm fine," She replied with a small smile, looking back to the body she was looting when it suddenly moved with a groan. "_GAH! _He's still alive!" And switchblade flicked out, she stabbed it into the raider's neck, letting the bloody gurgling cease before she continued with her searching.


	15. CHP 15: Like A Hurt Little Schoolgirl

**Authors Notes: I'm INSANELY happy with how this chapter turns out... It's kinda cute at first, but then it starts taking a steep roll down a hill that springs out of nowhere e_O My emotions were spazzing towards the next few chapters after this one, LOL.**

**So enjoy! And review about how much the current turn of events pleases/displeases you! (Hopefully, the writing is just good in general...)**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"Mistress?"<p>

"Yes?"

"_This-_" Charon pointed to the crater of dirty water Aimee was splashing in, letting the irradiated filth run down her body. "Is ridiculous."

"Well I have to get irradiated _somehow!_" She replied, sticking out her tongue and coughed with surprise when some water flew into her mouth. "Do you have any other-" Cough. Hack. "Options?"

He gave a long sigh and wandered over to the closed outdoor bar of the Brass Lantern, sitting at one of the stools to rest as she continued splashing in the water, Geiger-Counter going off like fireworks on the fourth of July. Charon couldn't understand why this woman- Moira- was asking Aimee to do things as idiotic as this. All he knew was that this supposed "guide" was to help the occupants of the Capital Wasteland live to see another day.

But he snorted at the idea- it was all about experience. A fucking book by some psychotic woman who had never even faced a raider in her life couldn't guarantee that you'd be able to live longer, or know how to outrun a Deathclaw or _anything else_ that could have been useful.

Aimee claimed it would have _some_ useful stuff- but if _she _was the one playing researcher and willing to take the risk of turning into a ghoulette, by all means, who was _he_ to stop her?

Well, he was her bodyguard. But she forgot that little fact sometimes.

He propped his elbow on the bar and pulled out a bottle of beer from his bag, smacking the lip of it down on the edge with a heavy hand to have the cap pop off and he took small swigs. Might as well find _something _to do while his employer was doing something slightly entertaining.

"Damnit, there's gotta be a faster way to do this…" Aimee grumbled as she climbed out from the crater, strolling to him with dirty water streaming down her toned legs. "Any thoughts?"

"Why don't you drink the water?" He asked mockingly, bringing his bottle to his dry lips to only have it snatched from his hands and he watched with a scowl as Aimee chugged down what was left in it.

"Ya know, that's not a bad idea Char-bear!" She exclaimed, tossing him back the bottle and she ran to the water.

"Mistress, I wasn't being serious…" He murmured, setting the empty bottle back to the counter.

But it was too late; Aimee was already on her knees lapping at the water like a hungry kitten with wide, curious eyes.

Charon squeezed the bridge between his eyes as he got up and walked over, hauling her out of the water.

"Wha- What? _Charon!_ What are you doing?"

"It is my purpose as your bodyguard to keep you out of harm's way. Obviously, I'm saving you from yourself right now." He replied simply, still gripping her wrist as he grabbed their packs from the Brass Lantern bar and strolled up the middle of town.

"I promised Moira I'd help her! I can't let her down because you're going all protective and stuff on me!" She countered.

"Tell her, tough. Tell her to find someone else to run test subjects on- anyone but _you._"

"I said- Charon! _I said-!_" But he wouldn't let her speak as she was being dragged up the walkway to her Megaton house. "Charon wait a God-damn-_fucking minute!_"

The furious words immediately made him stop, causing her to slam into the back of his large figure and stumble a bit, pulling her wrist from him and he turned around to glower down at her.

"Why are you making this difficult?" He asked through clenched, yellow teeth.

"Go home, Charon." Aimee replied, turning and making her way down the ramp. "And _stay _there."

Charon bit down on his lip to keep himself from saying anything more. What the hell was going on? She was willing to put herself in harm's way, and for what? A bunch of sexed-up, drugged-up, raiding, slaving, murderous beings she has never even _met before?_ Seriously- she was almost literally drowning herself in irradiated water in the name of safety for others.

But he supposed there were worse things out there that she could be doing.

And there was nothing he could do to stop her, since she ordered him to stay home as if he were a loyal little guard dog- it was frustrating to him as a bodyguard because it only meant more work for him.

He gave an irritated sigh and turned to the small house they shared, stepping in and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Charon awoke from his mattress with the sound of the door slamming. From the sound of familiar heavy footsteps, it was his tired employer. He sat up to watch her stumble towards the stairs, losing course and hunching over the bookshelf across from his mattress.<p>

"Mistress?" He began, pulling off his sheets.

"Ch-Charon… I- I-" But the rest of the words were cut off by her getting sick all over the floor, falling to her hands and knees to continue the wrenching action.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, suppressed an "I told you so," and stood up to walk towards her, crouching down to help her up.

"How's the radiation sickness treating you?" He asked, a little smugly.

"Wha- Whatever…" She spat before vomiting again, letting it slosh against her knees and drip down her chin.

"You haven't gone to Moira." Charon stated more so then asked and helped her get to her wobbly feet.

Aimee gave a small nod and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Let's go."

Picking her up and yanking the door open, he helped her stagger out of the house and locked the door behind him, going down the path with her tripping and stumbling on her own two feet, taking several moments to vomit on the ground before continuing.

"Fu-Fuck…" She cringed as they made their way up the ramp to Moira's Craterside Supply. "Worst day of my fucking _life…_"

_It's about to get a whole lot worse, smoothskin._ Charon jiggled the doorknob. It was locked; Moira must have closed up for the night. What time was it anyways?

"Just my shit luck…" Aimee sighed, cringing again and held her head. "God _fucking_ damn it all to bloody hell…"

It was interesting to see that high levels of radiation poisoning made Aimee pretty crabby- and gave her the mouth and the vocabulary of a sailor.

"We'll go back to the house and get some Rad-Away in you, for now. Let's get going, glowworm." Charon spoke in a low tone as they went down the ramp again; Aimee only getting sick once as their feet hit the dirt at the center of town.

"Cha-Charon… I'm sorry…" She spoke quietly as they made their way up another ramp.

But he kept quiet. His eyes only focused ahead as he practically dragged her behind him, her arm slung over his shoulders to be held by one hand while the other was wrapped around her waist.

"Are yo- you listening?" Aimee asked as they got to the door and he opened it with the hidden key in the lamp by the doorframe, kicking it open and setting her down on his bed and nudged a bucket towards her with his foot.

"Stay." Charon ordered and went to the kitchen, popping open the toolbox on the shelf and poked through it for the Rad-Away.

"Charon, I said I'm sorry…" She repeated softly, her eyes watching him as he made his way back over and kneeled down next to her, stealing her arm to uncap the IV of the bag.

"For what?" He asked after slowly sliding the needle into her skin, watching as a little color came back to her face.

"For telling you to wait here…" Aimee let her eyelids flutter closed. "I'm sorry- for acting like your employer, and not your friend…"

He immediately stopped and looked down at her with hard eyes, causing her to open up her own and stare up at him when he held back an answer or agreement to her statement.

She realized there wasn't any agreement of the sort.

"We _are_ friends- aren't we?..." She murmured.

"You can sleep here tonight." Charon replied simply and got up, making his way to the stairs and shuffled up them.

Once he got to the top, he went over to the small corner next to the railing and made himself comfortable on the sea foam green plush seat. Small noises from downstairs made him peer over the edge.

Aimee was yanking the IV from her inner elbow and attempted to angrily throw it at the wall, only gaining a half-hearted toss and she huffed with irritation, letting a weak hand graze her forehead as her lower lip began to tremble.

It was a pathetic show. She couldn't have been crying because he hurt her feelings or whatever- she was acting like a hurt little school girl on the playground that no one wanted to play with.

"You wanna know _why_ I didn't listen to you, Charon?" She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at him with a narrowed gaze, her pupils like angry pinpoints and he tensed up underneath his armor. How did she know he was watching? "I didn't listen because this is _important _to me. As difficult as it is for you to grasp this, I _want_ to help people! Just like _you_ want to help _me!_" But her lips immediately tightened together. "Or so I thought… I'm just another job to you- another employer- _aren't I?_"

Charon gazed down at her with a half-lidded stare. He had never met anyone like her- he never met an _employer_ like her. She was impatient, childish, oblivious and at times downright annoying and clumsy- but she was a compassionate being who loved helping people no matter what the affects were on her.

Why was she doing this to herself? Caring for people who she didn't even know?

"Get some sleep… We're going out tomorrow." Aimee spoke sharply and turned over onto her side as best she could.

"Mistress, where-"

"We're going to Minefield." She cut him off, already familiar with the question. "Goodnight Charon."

Charon closed his mouth to keep from saying anything more- he knew he did something wrong. He hit the taboo territory of his employer- a place he was _never_ supposed to even set foot in. He had hurt her feelings, and he knew he was going to pay the price for angering the beast sooner or later.


	16. CHP 16: You're Not Bulletproof

**Author's Notes: AND SO! The continuation of Aimee's story, Chapter Sixteen, while they're traversing Minefield for Moira and the _Wasteland Survival Guide!_ Pretty exciting stuff, neh?**

**The first time I played FALLOUT 3 and had to get Moira a landmine, I kept getting shot at by Arkansas or kept dying 'cause of the exploding cars or landmines I couldn't see, I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE THE HELL HE WAS! -All caps rage- Freakin' Moira... I love her, but c'mon now! D:**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy that I'm posting TWO chapters for you guys today... Just 'cause I love you so damn much, and 'cause with all the _other_ chapters I've written, you guys are in for the long haul with this little gem!**

**As Charon's telling his tale of his adventures with Aimee to Butch, (considering this is all technically a flashback since chapter 3/4) Butch is probably like "THIS IS A FUCKIN' LONG STORY! Are you done yet?" xD Awww, Butch- you'll see more of our favorite Deloria when Charon is done with his tales of their precious Lone Wanderer, Aimee :3**

**So enjoy the two chapters! And leave a review! Lord (Charon) knows I crave for them...**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"<em>Mother Fletcher!<em>" Aimee shrieked as she dodged away from a flaming car, finding refuge behind a nearby dead tree just as the vehicle exploded and blazing car parts shattered around her. The sound of thick bullets whirred by her head, and she changed her position behind the tree to avoid getting hit.

_Where's Charon?_ She panicked as her eyes darted around the scene, but then the bitter moment they exchanged last night made her frustrated. _Why the hell do I care if he doesn't?..._

And then, she saw him ahead, pointing at a crumbled building with his shotgun and firing shell after shell.

Aimee scoffed, holding her hand up to her eyes to block out the horrid sun and caught the outline of an old man crouched on the top floor of the ramshackle building, reloading a-

Her eyes widened and she quickly reloaded Elaine. _Shit! Shit- shit, shi-shit!_ Her mind rumbled as she ran from her hiding spot and pointed at him from where she stood. _The old fart has a sniper rifle!_ Her mind yelled as another car burst into flames, and with a shriek, she sprinted away to press her back to the side of a nearby house and watch the remains of the explosion slide on down the old road with a banshee screech and small sparks, causing her to cover her ears.

She looked around the edge to see Charon continuously shoot off shell after shell, find some place to hide and reload, then repeat the process.

_There's no way Charon can reach the guy from down here… And if he isn't careful- he might step into a landmine!_

This place was horrifically famous for a reason- because it was littered with "hot little potatoes" as Moira called them.

She made a mental note of shoving one down the woman's throat when they returned.

_If_ they returned.

Aimee loved Moira, she loved how she was so eccentric and tinkering away with one thing or another- but _come on!_ This was a suicide mission!

So with a deep breath, she stepped out and ran up the road with Elaine at her side, trying to find a good vantage point where she'd be able to get close enough to shoot, but hide and avoid getting a bullet to the brain box at the same time. There was nothing that could dampen your day more than an old fart wiping your head clean off, no siree.

But she found a nice area in a nook between houses that was hidden by a shriveled black tree. Aimee pressed her back to it and looked out to see Charon still trying his best to shoot at the elderly sniper.

"Good grief…" She sighed. _Doesn't he know he's not going to hit the old fossil from down here?_

But the words she shouted at him weren't the words she meant to say.

"_Charon!_" She screamed, fear puncturing her heart like sharp talons and dragging it down into her stomach, further hardening into a pit as the sniper shot again, and a geyser of blood sprang forth from her bodyguard's shoulder.

But he only gave a small groan as he collapsed to the ground- whether it was anger, pain, or surprise Aimee didn't know- and clamped a large hand down to suppress the gushing wound.

_Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!_ Aimee's mind reeled the word over and over with every boot that hammered down on the pavement as she sprinted towards him, getting to her knees to help him up.

"Mi-Mistress-" He grunted with pain, looking to the sniper.

"I know what you're going to say, and the answer is _hell _to the _fucking no!_" She growled, struggling to get him to his feet. "I'm _not_ leaving you here!"

Charon was 6-foot-something of pure ghoul muscle. Aimee was 4"9' and in the same level of "as squishy as a Molerat." She was going to have trouble getting the big guy up.

"C'mon big guy! I know you're tougher then this so get your ass up!" She grunted as he finally got to his feet, grabbed for his hand, and ran with him to her hiding spot behind the dead tree.

"You wait here, I'll be back in a moment." She spoke as she settled him down at the base of the tree, ripping the hem of her tank top and bundled it up, pressing it to his shoulder. "Here- it should slow down the bleeding till I can take care of it."

"Mistress, you're not going back out there." Charon replied firmly, looking up at her with sharp eyes.

"Charon, I _am _going back out there and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Aimee replied shortly and stood up.

He immediately grabbed for her wrist and pulled her back down to him, causing her to fall to her hands and knees in the dirt and she glared up at him.

"Wanna bet on that?" He rejoined calmly.

With an irritated huff, Aimee blew her bangs out of her eyes and gazed past him, eyes widening with fear and her body began to tremble violently.

"Ch-Charon!" She pointed past him. "It's a Yao Guai!"

The bodyguard immediately grabbed for his combat shotgun and looked to the direction of her pointing, finding nothing but a barricade of cars at the end of the road. When he turned back, she was already up and running to the building the old sniper was hiding in.

"_Aimee!_" He snarled ferociously. How could he have fallen for something as childish as that? How _could _he?

Aimee made her way to the opening in the side of the building and darted around the frag mines that dusted the floor like sprouting daisies, only tripping one or two as she finally made her way to the stairs and ran up them.

Stopping midway, there was an opening in the wall that revealed the dead tree Charon was behind. She smirked at his ravaged face poking out from around the edge, cracked lips in his usual scowl of irritation and his eyes a livid shade of blue. It was an usual sight for her- and trying not to get distracted, she continued making her way upward to have the ancient sniper's back facing her, shooting at more cars down below in an effort to get to Charon.

She came down to a crouch and crawled up the rest of the stairs, slowly coming over to the elderly man and slowly stood up, pressing Elaine's mouth to the back of his head and the man immediately tensed up.

"You've caused _quite_ a bit of trouble for me and my friend, here." Aimee spoke and outstretched her hand over the man's shoulder. "Your rifle, please."

With a grumble, he did as he was told and handed it to her.

Aimee tossed it to the side, far from his reach and pointed her gun back down at him.

"Now then, I want you to give me everything you have that's valuable. _Everything._ That's how you're going to pay me back for all the trouble you've caused." She spoke in a low tone. "Get up and turn around _slowly_."

With another grumble, he slowly got up and turned around to face her.

"Dump out everything from your pockets, and if you try to pull a fast one, sing your prayers because I swear I _will_ shoot you and I _will not miss._" Aimee warned, nodding at him to commence handing over his valuables.

The sniper began to dig into the pockets of his outfit and dumped out several things. A few bottle caps clattered on the ground, a handful of cherry bombs, and lastly- a ring of keys.

"What are these for?" She asked, slowly leaning over to grab for them.

"Their _mine!_" The old man shouted as he pulled out a knife from the wrapping on his leg and swiped it at her.

With a small shriek of surprise, Aimee stumbled back and tripped on a small crevice in the floor, causing her to land on her back and have Elaine slide away from her. With a grunt of pain and the wind knocked out of her, she gasped for air and looked up to see the man standing over her, jagged knife in hand with a smile on his face.

"I guess today just isn't your lucky day- is it missy?" He asked snidely.

She gave out a few chuckles, and he frowned with question.

"A-Actually," She began once her laughing died down. "I don't think it's yours either!"

And before he could question what she meant, her foot came flying up and connected with his gut, causing him to groan in pain and double over clutching his midsection, dropping his knife to the floor.

Aimee was about to send another kick to his face but he began to stagger backwards, foot catching on the edge of the floor that overlooked the ground three stories up. The old man screamed with terror as he went diving off the edge; the only sounds indicating his death were the sickening noises that reached her ears from below.

Aimee let out a breath of relief and rolled onto her hands and knees, too tired and still struggling to regain oxygen to her lungs to completely get up and she crawled over to the knife and Elaine, picking up both of them and continued onto grabbing the sniper rifle. Looting whatever she could find on the floors, she found crutches, cherry bombs, surgical tubing, and a mattress.

It was a good location, too. She could disarm the rest of the mines below and get Charon up here- everyone steered clear of Minefield because of all the seemingly invisible threats that littered the ground like trash, and he could rest for the night before they made their long five day journey back to Megaton.

"I see you took care of the sniper."

Aimee jumped at the shredded from radiation voice and spun on her heel to come face-to-chest with Charon, her eyes slowly gazing up to her bodyguard's face.

"Ye-Yeah… The old coot pulled a knife on me."

"You're okay," He replied, looking her over quickly. "A few cuts and scratches, but overall…"

"I have some tweezers in my pack. I'll take care of your shoulder for you, Char-bear."

Aimee grabbed for his hand and brought him over to the mattress in the corner, sitting him down and kneeled down in front of him to pull her pack off her shoulders and sort through it, finally coming to a small satchel she used to keep her medical supplies together.

"I got a key ring from him- armor off please." She spoke softly as the tweezers came out and she moved his hand away, examining his shoulder as he did as he was told and discarded his leather armor top. "I think the keys open up the houses here in Minefield. I hope they don't have mines in them, too…"

Charon winced slightly, hissing with pain as the tip of the tweezers ventured into his decomposed flesh and dug around for the bullet.

"Sorry," She apologized with a grin. "You wanna hold my hand?"

He gave her a sharp glare that said it all; _"Stuff it, smoothskin."_

Aimee giggled at the thought- it's not like he'd actually say it to her.

The bullet finally came out, and with gauze and a bottle of antibiotics she snatched from the Vault before she left, she administered it to his wound.

_What else goes through his mind that he doesn't want to say to me?_ She wondered as she looked back up at him. He was watching her clean his shoulder. _Has he wanted to say that I'm just another employer all this time?... Nothing more than another job- so we could never be friends?_

Charon looked down at her, grunting slightly to gain her attention.

Aimee gazed up at him, offering a warm smile. "Your armor must be pretty good stuff. You would have lost your damn arm if you wore anything less," She turned back to her satchel and pulled for the roll of bandages. "I'm glad you're okay. It could have been worse than it actually is. We'll settle in Megaton for a few days so you can heal, and-"

"Do you not wish to find your father?"

"And- wait, what was that?" She paused, looking up at him with curious eyes.

"You would like to find your father. Wasting several days due to my ignorance will put a hindrance in your search." He clarified.

"You weren't ignorant…" Aimee began, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Everyone gets injured in battle."

"And what if that had been you?"

"Don't change the subject." She sighed deeply. "Charon, not even _you_ are bulletproof, and I'm not expecting you to be… Friends or not, we are a _team_, and I refuse to leave you behind for any reason," She explained as the bandages were unfurled, straightening up a little to wrap it around his chest and shoulder. Now that his armor was removed, she stared into the tattered flesh and exposed muscle of his torso; a palette of perfect reds and pinks chiseled with his strong muscles.

_I had no idea he was so-… __**ripped!**_Aimee swallowed hard.

"A team?" He repeated in a strange voice.

"Hu- Huh?" She snapped out of her admiring daze. "What was that? Oh, right!" She blushed with embarrassment and cleared her throat. "Yes, Charon, a team. Even if you don't look at me as a friend-…" She stopped to look up at him with weary eyes. "Bodyguard or not, there will be times I will protect you and you just need to accept that."

Charon remained quiet, his stone-cold eyes following every moment Aimee made as her hands danced across his broad chest and shoulder, making sure the bandages wouldn't come undone and tied up her handiwork. She handed him his armor top from the floor and began putting her supplies away.

"I am to assume we are staying here tonight?"

Aimee gave him a nod and tossed her pack next to the bed, laying down and laying her head to it as if it were a pillow.

"Then I will go on first watch." Charon spoke as he began to get up from the ground.

"Sit back down," She ordered, causing him to stop mid-action and she looked up at him. "You're the injured one so you are given every right to take the mattress. I think I can handle a night of sleeping on the ground."

"Mistress-"

"Char-bear, please_…_" Aimee pleaded, resting a gentle hand on his arm. "_Please?..._"

Charon's dry lips pursed together as he settled back down to the mattress with his knees in front of him, elbows propped up onto them with a look of disapproval on his face.

Aimee took her eyes away from his and looked up to the sky, darkening above their heads as the sun retreated to the horizon to let the moon reign over in a short while and took her hand back from his arm, resting it across her stomach.

"You probably think it's stupid- that I'm pretty much chasing after a ghost…" She spoke after a short while of silence, closing her eyes. "And sometimes I think I am, too…"

Charon said nothing, but she could feel his eyes trained on her and he was listening closely. Not like he had anything better to do…

_Well, he could shoot himself in the face and end this pointless torment._ Aimee retorted inwardly.

"I grew up in Vault 101. My mother died giving birth to me, and my dad- my dad was all I had left…" She opened her eyes again, and spotted a few stars dotting the waning light. "But I got up one morning and all I had left, left me without a reason or a proper goodbye."

Aimee glanced over to Charon to see his eyes trained on her face. For a ghoul, he had the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen… They weren't foggy like Tulip's, or filmed over like Gob's. It seemed like the only thing that wasn't affected by his transformation. She wondered if he was like this before the war… Cold, detached, almost heartless?

"So I left too. Course, if I didn't, the Overseer would have killed me." She snorted a small chuckle and folded her arms behind her head. "I had to find him and find out why he left me alone… All my life I believed that I was all he had. But once I got out here, I realized- I realized he might have left because I _wasn't_ the only thing he had left, and that there was something else out here. Something more _important_ than me…"

She looked up to see if he was still listening- and surprised that he still was- but doubted he found any of it interesting. Why should he care about why she's out here?

"I'm hoping it's not true- but who knows?" Aimee shrugged and looked back up to the sky. "I think I'll find out soon. I'm going to look for Three Dog and I'm going to ask dad why he left the Vault… But think about it Charon. If I hadn't left- you'd be rotting away at the back of that bar in Underworld, working shady jobs for Ahzrukhal still."

This caused him to immediately glower down at her, and from the corner of her eyes, she saw the familiar twitch in his neck that came around when he was nervous or annoyed or hiding something.

"Or maybe you still wished that you were back there?" She asked, a little viciously. "If you didn't like me you could have at least told me, Charon…"

_Not like you were going to… Not with that stupid contract held in front of you like you were a Brahmin with a sack of feed dangling in your face._

"But your contract holds you back from doing so much..." She continued softly. "Don't you ever think of being free? Free to roam the Wastelands, like me? To find some _adventure _in your life?"

"No." Charon replied with a shake of his head and settled down to the mattress, feet hanging off the edge.

"And why not?" Aimee turned her face over to look at him.

"Because I'm not like you." He responded, rolling over to stare at the wall. "I don't have someone to look for."

Aimee sat up, pulling a knee to her chest and heaved a deep sigh, running her fingers through her hair.

"Which is all the more reason why we should need each other…" She whispered to herself, looking up over her shoulder to gaze down at the barren landscape of Minefield in the glory and glow of the moon.


	17. CHP 17: Horny Old Raiders

"Ohmygosh! You brought me back my very own _land mine!_ I've always wanted one!" Moira exclaimed happily, quickly scurrying away to her counter with the frag mine in her clutches.

Aimee grinned, hands on her broad hips. "It's not a pet rock, Moira…"

"Of _course _it's not, silly! Who would want a rock as a pet? That's just ridiculous!" She placed the inactive mine down on a stack of papers. "Huh... Note to self; frag mines make for _very attractive _paperweights!"

"So do actual paperweights- and they're less likely to blow up and kill you." She replied lightheartedly, leaning onto the counter. "As of lately, I just want my payment in Stimpaks."

"Are you sure, Aimee? I just got a shipment of frag grenades, _and_ I finished drawing up schematics for a Bottlecap mine last night!"

"Bottlecap mine schematics?"

Moira nodded, pulling out a large roll of blue grid paper from the locker behind her.

"Give to Aimee!" She replied childishly, grabbing at it.

The Craterside Supply owner immediately gave it to her. "What about the frag grenades?"

"A hundred caps for each," She looked up to Moira with a smile. "And do you have the shotgun shells I asked for?"

"Four whole boxes of shells!" Moira exclaimed, shoving them across the counter along with all her paid for Stimpaks. "Here you go, Aimee. We're all gonna miss you when you go off to find your dad! It's kind of exciting to know that you might meet Three Dog, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm just getting _chills._" Aimee responded sarcastically with a roll of her eyes and stuffed her new things into her pack. "I hope he doesn't spew all over the radio that I came to visit him…"

"Well, if you need anything before you go, come visit me and I'll see what I can give you!"

"Thanks Moira, I'll be sure to do that." And with a friendly wave, Aimee quickly exited the supply store and strolled over to Charon. "Hey Char-bear, I got you _somethiiing!_"

He immediately pushed back from the railing and looked at her with a slight glint of interest in his hardened blue orbs.

"Here- more shotgun shells!" She handed him the boxes. "I know it's nothing fancy, but shells are pretty damn expensive here… I thought I'd stock up for you before we head out."

"Thank you, mistress." He murmured as she took the boxes back and put them in her pack.

"C'mon, we'll go home and pack up. We can go down to Gob's Saloon later, he said he was going to host a going away party for us! Drinks are on the house!"

"I thought you were too young to drink…"

Aimee scoffed. "I'm nineteen! How old do you _think_ I am?"

"By the way you act or by how old you look?" He jeered impassively.

"Were you trying to be funny?" She countered, sticking her tongue out at him as they made their way down the ramp, Aimee almost immediately slamming into Jericho once they got to the bottom.

"Well, isn't it the innocent little doll face and her shuffling guard dog?" He grinned, circling around her to poke at her pack. "Whatchya got in there, sweetheart?"

"Nothing you'll find interest in, Jericho." She replied shortly. "Whiskey and Nova are up at the saloon, but I heard she isn't taking johns anymore now that Moriarty's kicking it six feet under in a flaming pit."

"Damn shame it is." He shook his head, beady eyes darting down her body to come to her breasts and he licked his lips with hunger. "Know where a guy could get his rocks off?"

Charon stepped between the two, causing Aimee to stumble back a little with surprise at how fast her bodyguard was.

"Aimee isn't interested." He spoke coolly, eyes narrowing down on the ex-raider. "Keep walking."

Jericho snorted, looking to her. "Who's _this_ zombie, anyways? You a shuffler-lover now, sweet cheeks?"

"What's the matter, Jericho?" She grinned, hugging Charon's arm, _much_ to his discomfort, and she could tell by how he tensed and the muscle in his neck twitched. "Afraid of a little competition?"

"Competition?" He repeated, grin fading and eyes looking down to the ghoul's arm being hugged to her chest. Probably wishing it was _his_ arm receiving all that attention…

"Yeah. You nervous that he's getting more attention then _you_ are? I mean- you're a washed up raider too deep in the bottle to think straight. You said so yourself." She smirked cruelly. "But I think I'll have to correct myself, compared to Charon, there isn't _any_ competition…"

Jericho immediately shoved her, and only Charon grabbing for her arm kept her from slamming into the railing.

"You watch that dirty little mouth of yours, saint." He growled. "Ain't it supposed to be doing something better then yapping at me?"

"If you're implying that I should suck you off- sorry, my father told me never to put small things in my mouth." She giggled, taking her bodyguard by his hand, which was difficult to do because it was balled up into a fist- and she could tell he was about ready to wallop Jericho. "C'mon, Charon. Jericho's an old drunken fossil you don't need to worry about."

"You wanna _bet?_" Jericho sneered, grabbing for a fistful of her hair.

But before his rough fingertips could even graze the silky curls, Charon's hand was clasped around the ex-raider's neck, shoving him onto his back and pinning him to the angle of the ramp and slowly began squeezing the life out of him as if he were a tube of toothpaste.

"Charon!" Aimee cried, staggering back over.

"I believe there is something I need to take care of, and I will be with you momentarily mistress." Charon replied, fingers clamping down with even more force as Jericho struggled for air, clawing at his rotting hand and armored chest.

By now, there was a small crowd gathering, watching a ghoul kneeling over an ex-raider with one hand on his neck, practically tearing his last breaths from his throat.

"Charon, stop! Lucas Simms might come over, and he'll-"

"Too late, Aimee." The sheriff replied, weapon out and pointed at Charon's head, the action not even disturbing him from his strangling. "I believe you are causing a ruckus in my town when I like it nice and quiet."

"Wait, Mr. Simms! Charon didn't start it!" Aimee retorted, stomping her foot down.

"Oh, I believe you, but your friend is becoming a problem for me."

"He's not my friend." She replied shortly, face paling with guilt the moment the words left her mouth and pushed his gun away from the ghoul's head, looking down to him with a solemn look in her eyes. "He's my bodyguard. Jericho tried to attack me and he felt it was necessary to protect me… Simple as that…"

Charon's hand was finally pried from Jericho's throat. "_What!_ That crazy bitch is lying!"

That received a brazen punch to the face from the ghoulish bodyguard on top of him.

"_Charon!_" Aimee exclaimed with warning.

"If you ever even _think_ about laying a hand on Aimee, I will rip your throat out with my bare hands and turn you into a new doormat for the town- _right _where the Wasteland can swallow you whole and the buzzards can pick off whatever's left of your pathetic carcass." He whispered viciously to the raider, dry lips bared back in a snarl of yellow teeth.

"Ch- Char-!" She partially murmured with wide eyes of shock, a hand coming up to her mouth.

"Aimee, get your friend out of my sight before Ifeel it's necessary to start _shooting_." Lucas Simms warned, glaring down at Charon as he hesitantly lowered his weapon.

"Ye-Yes, Mr. Simms…" She mumbled with frustration, immediately grabbing her bodyguard by his arm and hauled him off Jericho. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"I hope not, kid." He replied as he dragged the ex-raider to his feet. "I'll take Jericho home, you take care now."

Aimee nodded and grabbed for Charon's hand, quickly darting through the parted crowd and up the ramp that lead to her home.

"You should have let me kill him." He spoke once they got to the front door and she unlocked it, stepping in to drop her stuff next to her locker and shrug her shoulders out from her jacket.

"And do what? Risk getting kicked out of Megaton, or worse, get _you_ killed?" She grimaced, waving a hand at him. "No thanks. I think I'll pass,"

"He is a threat to you, and as my employer, I have the right to termin-"

Soft fingers suddenly met his cracked lips, obstructing the rest of his sentence from being said, and he looked down to the smoothskin before him who gazed up with neutral eyes and a bright smile on her face.

"Char-bear?" Aimee giggled, pulling her fingers back when his neck muscle twitched. "I appreciate that you are trying to protect me from Jericho, but unless he pulls a weapon on me or you, you are to _not_ lay a hand on him. Understood?"

He nodded obediently. "Yes, mistress."

"Good! Now, I have some Brahmin steak in the fridge- we can heat that up and I'll make some Insta-Mash. We're going to bed right after because _you_ need all the rest you can get…" She cocked a playful eyebrow. "You're shoulder won't heal properly if you're running around beating what sense is left out of horny old raiders."

"As you wish, mistress…"

"Is something wrong?" She asked as she kicked the door closed and walked over to the kitchen, tossing her goggles off and laying them on the bookcase.

"Nothing." He replied shortly, turning to the workbench to take apart his combat shotgun and clean it down.

"Nuh huh, don't do that." Aimee scowled as she grabbed a couple of boxes of Insta-Mash from the metal shelving and pulled out a bottle of purified water from the fridge. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He repeated in the same dull tone, eyes flickering up when she set her work down and walked towards him.

"Char-bear?" Her small hand grazed his elbow, and she laid her head to his upper arm. "We'll set out as soon as you're better… You're not hindering me of anything. I know I'll find my father soon," She looked up at him with a broad smile. "So don't worry about it, 'kay?"

He wasn't worried at all- well, not about _that,_ anyways. What slightly worried him was that he was used to being blamed for things he didn't even do... Normally, he'd get yelled at till his employer was blue in the face for getting hit in the middle of a gunfight and start bitching about medical supplies and losing caps and whatnot from trying to patch him up. But not her- not Aimee. She shrugged it off like it was nothing and was tending to him as if he were a wounded bird. Making him food, bringing him water, whatever she could do no matter how small or how big.

It was a little sickening just because he wasn't used to it, and because her kindness always sent nervous chills throughout his ragged body. It had been so long since he was with someone like this- and sometimes, it made him feel like he still had his skin and his hair, his nose and his ears, and _all_ of his charming good looks.

Charon gave a small grunt of a reply and she turned back to the kitchen to finish making dinner. It was completed soon and she pulled out the fold-out table, setting down dishes and silverware and their food. Two stools were dragged over from their place by her Pip-Boy pedestal.

He still couldn't understand her strange obsession with the little bobble heads… He knew they were rare- not many survived from after the bombs fell, he knew, but she wasn't selling them for caps. He heard collectors would pay _thousands _of caps for the chipper Vault-Tec merchandise. But they just sat on that Vault-Tec pedestal, forever collecting dust and radiation.

"They're cool, aren't they?" Aimee asked, causing his train of thought to come to a screeching halt and he looked up at her. "The bobble heads, I mean…" She looked to the pedestal with her hands on her broad hips proudly. "I've only found six so far- but I'll find them all one day! I'll tell you about them after dinner."

Charon gave a slight nod of obedience and plopped down in his seat across from her, leisurely grazing his food like a Brahmin to dead grass, once in a while letting his eyes flicker up to watch Aimee eat as well. Fork in one hand to bring food to her mouth, the other hand held a D.C. Journal of International Medicine which her nose seemed to be very deeply buried in.


	18. CHP 18: My Own Little World

**Author's Notes: You guys know I'm not one to make you wait (for long, anyways xD) I haven't written up the chapters for my other stories, because I wanted to get this one set up first before I threw myself back into the whole sha-bang. I hope it comes out good! D:**

**The moment I found out nothing could be done about my poor USB card, I went into overdrive trying to pull from my memory the events of each chapter after Chapter Seventeen... YOU TRY AND REWRITE-... -counts on my fingers... and toes- 25 FREAKING CHAPTERS! D: I was in the midst of writing Chapter Forty-Three when all my work was deleted... -le sigh- So I hope you guys forgive me for all this heart-breaking chaos, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait.**

**Not much plot development! Just Aimee playing the role of the Messiah by helping out the resident druggie of Megaton :3 THIS IS SORT OF A GAME SPOILER FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO _DO NOT KNOW_ WHO THE DRUGGIE IS! (Though I figure that most of you should...)**

**Oh, and by the way, I made a mistake in... Chapter Two, I believe. Andy thanked Aimee for helping his _younger_ brother, Leo, but after doing a bit of research I found out that _Leo_ is actually the oldest- he raised Andy and Jenny all by himself. (I was confused because Jenny mentioned that Leo raised her and Andy, which made me think that _he_ was the older brother, but Andy commented that Leo was younger then him, so... Yeah. Clusterfuck. xD LOL. All confusion aside, so there isn't any confusion for you guys in my story, I'm just going to continue it with Jenny as the baby, Leo the middle brother, and Andy being the oldest.)**

**Enjoy! Leave a review, because Lord knows I need a pick-me-up after the past two weeks of hell I've strolled through. No- scratch that... HELL WOULD HAVE BEEN A FUCKING PICNIC! =="**

**Either way, leave a review~**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee was hunched over her backpack, grabbing assorted items that were scattered around her in a messy circle on the floor to put into it- her weapons, her food, her clothes… Charon had his own bag, and believe it or not, Charon had his own stuff; which was already packed and hung on his broad shoulders. He watched as she knelt back down to retrieve something, a bottle cap it looked like, that had rolled under a nearby cabinet. She had bought the cabinet for him to house all the little knick-knacks she bought for him- leisure clothing, which to her displeasure he <em>never<em> wore, some more weapons, which he _never_ used due to the loyalty of his one and only combat shotgun. But, nonetheless, he commended her for trying.

"Can you run our checklist by me again, Charon?" She asked as she straightened up and sat back on her heels, sliding the escaped bottle cap into her pocket.

"Elaine."

"Check!" Elaine, her 10mm SMG was holstered on her hip, and she patted her lovingly.

"Charlie?"

"Check!" Charlie, her favorite combat knife, went into the backpack.

"Samuel."

Aimee pointed to the combat shotgun strapped to her back.

"Bethanie."

"Oh! Almost forgot about her," She got up and ran over to the locker to pull out her baseball bat. Its wood surface was saturated with dark splatters, and he didn't doubt she had used it before. He saw her take down a raider with one blow to the face with a lead pipe. The girl had a _hell_ of an arm, despite being so tiny.

Aimee quickly packed up whatever else dotted the floor and got to her feet, flinging her backpack onto her shoulders and called up the stairs.

"Wads! We're going! While we're gone, just bottle up whatever water you can make and toss it into the fridge, would you?"

"Of course, Mistress Aimee!" The Mr. Handy exclaimed with sarcastic enthusiasm as he hovered down the stairs. "Good luck on your travels- and good luck to you, _Master Char-bear._"

Charon growled at the robot as Aimee grabbed for his hand and dragged him outside, locking up the house before making their way down the metal slope to hit the dirt, when she gazed up and down throughout the town; eyes darting from the exit, all the way to the center by the bomb, as if looking for something- or somebody.

"Is something the matter, mistress?" He asked, eyes only trained on her.

She shook her head and glanced up to him with a warm smile. "There's just something I need to do before we go."

"Would you like me to stay here?"

"Nah," She shook her head again and began walking towards the center of town, motioning for him to follow over her shoulder. "It'll only take a moment."

"May I ask what you are doing?" He asked as they stopped in front of the Brass Lantern.

"Leo," Aimee called sweetly, leaning her elbows onto the outdoor counter and fiddled with the biker goggles that rested around her neck.

"Hey, Aimee!" He greeted cheerfully, pushing away from the opposite wall of the counter, where his sister Jenny also stood.

"Haven't seen _you_ in a while, girlie." Jenny greeted also, with a gentle smile.

"I was just about to leave- you know me, scavving and such…"

"That's not the way _we_ heard it," The youngest Stahl giggled, glancing to her brother. "But if that's the story you're stickin' to, then be our guest."

"I just wanted to talk to Leo about something before Charon and I left." Aimee nodded to the middle Stahl. "Can we talk in private?"

He nodded, wiping down the counter with a dirty rag. "Of course," Then glanced to his sister. "Jenny, why don't you get that care package for Aimee that we threw together?"

Jenny gave a worried glance to Leo, a pin-pointed curious stare at Aimee, before shrugging with defeat over being shooed away and walked back into the restaurant.

"So Aimee, what did you want to talk to me about?" He asked as he began stacking used porcelain plates and slightly chipped glass bowls on top of one another to carry inside for cleaning.

She glanced to Charon momentarily at her side as if trying to find the words, then looked back to Leo with the sweet smile still plastered onto her full lips.

"It's about your addiction," Aimee replied as if she were simply pointing out the degree of the rad-infested weather that morning.

Leo immediately tensed up, dirty dishes and cups sliding out from his sweaty palms to clatter or smash on the floor, and he heatedly glared down at her.

"_Damnit!_ Who told y-" He quickly clamped his mouth shut, eyes hooded over with heavy lids. "I mean… _I don't know what you're talking about._"

"Of course you don't, Leo." She sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she crossed one of her legs in front of the other, cocking a hip out as she leaned into the counter once again. Charon gave a quick throaty snarl to any man who passed by, staring with lustful eyes and licked dry lips at Aimee's suggestive position.

"You can't hide it from me. The affects are evident," Aimee continued, pointing at his face. "Unfocused and otherwise bleary eyes with red spider-lines, one of the many symptoms of Jet." She nodded down to the inner crook of his elbow. "Those markings from injecting yourself with Med-X and Psycho are the most obvious- I would have suggested wearing a longer-sleeved shirt."

Leo ducked his face away, crouching down to begin picking up the shards of glass.

"Oh, and the discoloration of your hair roots suggest excessive use of Buffout. Either that or a bad dye job," She joked in a lighthearted tone, trying to lighten the mood. As if _that_ would help… "Doc Church told me about your addiction, but he never said that you seemed to be hung up on every drug in the fucking book." She finished, coming around the counter to kneel down with his dirty rag and help brush up the smaller pieces into them.

"Church told you?" He asked with disbelief, wide eyes snapping up at her.

"I walked into his clinic one morning while he was murmuring something to himself about a thief. He told me you tried sneaking out with some of his medical supplies, _several_ times, so I hear." Her big grey eyes met his. "He asked me to help you because he thinks I'm the only one who can get through to you…"

"I _never_ stole anything from his clinic!" He rasped in a dark whisper.

"Leo…" She murmured dubiously.

"…Alright, I _tried. _Only _once._ That was it!"

"Who are you trying to convince?" She sighed. "Me? Or you?"

Leo ducked his face away again, looking down to the shards of broken plates and glasses that were swept up into a beaten brown dustpan.

"What else are you on? Besides Buffout, Jet, Psycho, and Med-X?"

"…Mentats…"

"_And?_"

"That's it, I swear!" He exclaimed with wide brown eyes.

Aimee looked him up and down. "In some cases of lengthy usage, Mentats can create irregular splotches on the skin… I don't see that, suggesting that you haven't been on them long."

"I haven't- I started using them last week…"

"What? You're not snorting Wonder Glue too?" She asked with a gentle smile.

"You can do that?" Leo asked with a curious cock of his head.

"Ne- Never mind…" She replied quickly, helping him clean up the rest of the remains of the broken dishes. "I came to help, _not_ to get you hooked off of something else."

"So? What's wrong with what I'm doing?" He snapped. "I'm not hurting anyone, I'm not going out there and _killing_ people- I'm not setting towns on fire or- or _raping_ women! What's wrong with what I do?"

"What if you had succeeded in stealing Doc Church's supplies, Leo?" Aimee asked quietly, full lips pursing into a hard, white line.

"I would have shot up… _What else?_"

"Then what would happen if someone came into town _needing_ those supplies for a serious, life-threatening injury?"

"It didn't happen, so I don't see how it concerns me." He replied snidely, folding his arms over his chest.

"Then what about Jenny and Leo?"

"Wha-" Aimee glanced to Charon over the counter, and they could _both_ see the horrified realization in his wide eyes. "What about them?"

"Do you steal money from them for your addiction?" Aimee's eyes darted back to him as she straightened up, laying the larger broken pieces of porcelain on the counter top.

"A little bit…" He admitted, getting up also with a full dustpan and swept the remaining fragments from the counter into it. "140 caps…"

"140 caps?" She exclaimed with wide eyes. "Andy's a workaholic- you don't think he's going to notice, if he hasn't all ready?"

Leo's face paled significantly.

"If you keep this up Leo, how long will it be till you steal more and more caps? What if that 140 turns into 300? What if that turns into 500? If you keep this up, how long will it be till the Brass Lantern goes under? Or worse, how long until you _overdose_ or _do something stupid _while you're strung up that it'll kill you?"

"Why do _you_ care?" He barked, lowering his voice when he noticed some people stopped to see what was going on; Megaton was a town of gossipers. But Charon scared them away easily enough with a simple glare.

"That's a stupid question." Aimee sighed. "Why _wouldn't_ I want to help you, Leo?"

"It could easily be enough that you have a reputation to uphold as the famed "Vault Dweller" turned Lone Wanderer." He rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest once more. "Everyone knows about _you_ and the things you've done. You're just trying to turn this into another one of your golden stories."

"I would _never_ exploit you like that," She furrowed her brows together. "Have you ever thought that I wanted to help you because you're my friend and I don't want to see you get hurt? Have you ever thought that I think that you deserve a better life than this?"

"What's better than this? I have all the money I want, so I can shoot up _whenever_ and _whatever_ I want!"

Aimee growled a little angrily, clutching onto the front of his shirt with blunt, dirty fingernails and yanked him down to eye-level with her bared teeth and pin-point narrowed eyes.

"_What's better than __**this?**__ What's looking you in the face is a one-way ticket to a six foot deep hole so you can push up daisies!_" She roared viciously.

"Aimee? Leo? What's going on?"

The two glanced up to see Jenny carrying a crate filled to the mouth with random boxes of food, the necks of several Nuka-Cola bottles were jutting up from one side.

"Nothing." Leo replied quickly, shoving Aimee away from him so she stumbled into the counter and hit her side on it. "Aimee was just leaving."

Charon gave a throaty growl, stepping forward to possibly strangle the life out of the middle Stahl when Aimee slapped a hand to his broad chest to stop him.

"It's fine, Char-bear." She mumbled to him and looked back to a stubborn Leo and a curious Jenny. "I want to help you whether you like it or not."

"Well I don't _want_ your help- whether you like it or not."

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Jenny exclaimed, putting the crate of food onto the counter and stared at both of them with frustrated eyes. "Aimee, why were you yelling at him?"

Aimee glanced over to Jenny, then back at Leo. She quickly grabbed his arm, and dragged him over to the bomb while pointing at Charon to make Jenny stay by the counter. All he had to do was _look_ down at her, and she was plastered into place.

"Leo, you have a disease, and it's called addiction… You keep fighting me on it, and for what reason? Do you _like_ stealing from your brother and sister? Do you _like_ getting high and not knowing where the hell you are or what the hell you were doing when the ride's over? Or better yet, do you _want_ your brother and sister to be planning a funeral for you?"

Leo swallowed hard, staring down into the irradiated water the bomb settled in and glanced over his shoulder to Jenny behind the counter, who was watching them carefully.

"How- How would I even _do _it?... Get better, I mean?" He finally asked quietly, looking down at her.

"With my help," Aimee smiled gently and handed him a drawstring bag that looked overly stuffed.

"What's this?" Leo pulled it open slightly and stared down into its contents, eyes practically bulging out of his sockets and jaw popping from his skull. "This- This is-"

"Caps, I know. It'd be better to get treatment with borrowed caps then _stolen_ caps." She brushed his bicep with a soft hand. "There's a piece of paper in there that has ingredients and directions that will make a form of… Remedy, I guess you could call it."

"A remedy? Like a cure?" He glanced back to her as he pulled the slightly crumpled, dingy piece of folded paper out.

"More like medicine. It won't cure you on the spot, it'll take some time and for you to make a commitment to taking it once a day. The caps are for Doc Church."

His face paled once more. "Chu- Church?..."

She nodded. "While you're taking the medicine, I want him to monitor your progress. You are to see him twice a week, 'kay? Oh- and _don't_ believe him when he says its 20 caps a visit. It's 5." She laughed.

"Wha- What about Jenny?... And Andy? What about all the money I stole from them?..."

"Do you still have some more drugs?"

Leo nodded. "I- I shoot up at the water processing plant… It's the last place anyone would look for me- anyone who _cared_ anyways. Walter didn't mind, but he didn't really know what I was doing either… I'd wait for him to fall asleep before I'd- _you know…_"

"I know." She nodded in understanding. Collect whatever is left and sell it back to Doc Church. I don't know how much money you've taken in total since your addiction started, but this is a good start in paying them back."

"What do I tell them, Aimee?" He panicked a little eyes darting back over to Jenny. "_How_ do I tell them?"

"Leo, it doesn't matter if a moment is the right time to tell them or when _they're_ ready, but I'm not going to sugar coat it- they could be upset. What matters is when _you _are ready to tell them, _that's_ when it's the right moment."

Leo gawked down at Aimee with disbelief, eyes hooded over as a fond look spread over his dumbstruck face. "You know, for a minute there, you sounded like my dad… Oh _God_, what have I done to my family?..."

"Don't think about what you _have_ done, Leo. Think about how you can make it up to them." Aimee smiled. "I'll be behind you all the way, don't be afraid to ask me if you need more money for Doc Church's observation work or if you need more caps to buy the ingredients you need for your medicine."

"B- Borrow caps? From _you?_ But… Why?"

"Because you're my friend, and I said I'd stand behind you no matter what and support you. If _anything_ happens where you can't stay at the Brass Lantern anymore, go up to my place and knock on the door. Tell Wadsworth I've allowed you to stay there until I return."

"Where are you going anyways? We _know_ you're not out scavving…" He replied with a slightly concerned look. "Are you still looking for your father?"

"Yeah…" She looked over at Charon, who was watching the both of them with hard eyes. "My next lead is Three Dog- the radio DJ over at Galaxy News Radio."

"Well I hope you find him soon." He smiled a little. "I guess… Thank you- for helping me and all, Aimee… I'm sorta glad Church told you about my problem. I've got this feeling in my gut that it would have gotten a _whole_ lot worse."

"I'm glad I could have helped." Aimee gave him a gentle hug, catching him by surprise but he quickly returned it and watched as she strolled over to Charon, pulling her biker goggles up into her bangs.

"We can go now." She smiled, stopping when Jenny latched a hand onto her elbow.

"Wait!" She cried. "You _still_ haven't told me what the hell's going on!"

Aimee glanced over to Leo. His back was facing all of them, hands in his pockets as he stared up at the bomb of Megaton as if he had never noticed its presence before in front of his restaurant. He stared at it like he had become a part of a whole new world, and that he was given a purpose.

She looked back to the youngest Stahl. "It's not my place to say... I gotta go now Jenny, I'll see you around?"

Jenny pursed her lips together in thought and gave a hesitant nod. "Ye- Yeah..." Then brushed past her and rushed over to Leo.

"Is he the reason why you were reading so many medical books?" Charon finally spoke, watching the two siblings speak quietly at the edge of the crater.

"Yeah," She nodded with a thoughtful smile. "I've known about his addiction a little before I met you- I just wasn't sure how to go about helping him... It went a lot smoother then I thought it would!"

Saying nothing more, the two set up the main path of Megaton to the front entrance, and giving her habitual wave to Stockholm, the giant steel doors screeched shut behind them. Just by looking at the way she walked with that content, carelessly pleasant smile on her face, Charon could tell that Leo Stahl wasn't the_ only_ one looking at the world through a fresh pair of eyes.


	19. CHP 19: The Lyons Pride

**Author's Notes: I'm _slowly_ rebuilding my arsenal of chapters for this story... Bear with me guys. I'm trying to keep focused on one story for now- the pain of losing ALL of my work, even things I haven't posted, is too much for me to bear by trying to rebuild _all_ of my lost stories T_T You guys are lucky I've decided to settle on Aimee's story to get back up to speed above the others e_O LOL. Do you know how awkward it is to rebuild all the progress I made in their relationship? And I'm not going to lie, I had _just_ finished writing their smut chapter when all my stuff was deleted! RAGE! D**

**Anyways~ here's Chapter Nineteen! I hope you enjoy :3**

**Also, I've posted my first EVAR one-shot! Be sure to check it out, 'cause I think it came out pretty decent... Thank chuuuu! :D**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>"<em>Do I <em>_**look like**__ a Super Mutant to you?_" Aimee shrieked over the ear-piercing screech of gunfire. She was crouched with her back pressed flat against a burnt out car, small hands clamped over her ears with a starving Elaine in her lap.

Charon tossed her a box of rounds to feed the dry gun before reloading his own weapon, peering out from around the front bumper of the car with a slight scowl.

It was him and her against a small group of the Brotherhood of Steel- knowing how the bastards were, they saw Charon and immediately began shooting. It's like they couldn't tell the fucking difference between a "normal" and a feral.

The two were nearing an abandoned school, Aimee's Pip-Boy guiding them to what seemed to be mapped as a small inlet where the Galaxy News Radio building was when a couple of Super Mutants crawled out from the rubble of the ruins and began shooting, howling and bellowing their hunger for flesh. Most of them were pegged before the Brotherhood of Steel showed up and mowed down the rest of them- _then _turned on Aimee and himself.

Once again, he didn't exactly have any sort of appreciation for the armored boy-scouts.

"I _hate_ it when BoS gets all trigger-happy!" Aimee yelled again over the gunfire and the sounds of bullets deflecting off the burnt skeleton of their hiding spot or whirring through its softer regions.

That's when it began billowing smoke, flames licking up and around the edges of the heavily dented hood.

"Move!" She exclaimed, grabbing his hand and yanking him up to stumble towards a nearby large piece of debris and Charon pressed himself flush against it. He grabbed for Aimee and pulled her with him so she was pressed against the boulder of rubble at his side when the car exploded into a mini mushroom cloud of irradiation and warm colors of reds and oranges.

"Lyons Pride, hold your fire!"

Aimee peeked out with flaming car parts showering around them to see a woman cautiously walking towards them. She had small piercing eyes, thin lips, and blonde hair clipped up in a messy bun. She was also donning Brotherhood of Steel armor, and looked like she meant serious business.

"Don't shoot! We're- uh…_Normalites?_" Aimee seemed to have confused herself for a moment, glancing up to Charon to whisper to him. "You think they'll shoot us if we step out?"

"The Brotherhood of Steel do not take kindly to ghouls." He replied simply.

"I guess that speaks up for one of us," She sighed, turning over her shoulder to look at him and smiled. "Don't worry- I won't let them hurt you."

The comment seemed to make the familiar muscle in his neck twitch, and it was almost enough to make her giggle.

She turned back to the issue at hand and poked her head out from behind the jagged boulder. "Er-… Hi! We were just, uh- strolling around town! We got a little lost trying to find our friendly-neighborhood disc jockey!" She smiled.

"Step out where I can see you, civilian." The woman demanded, and that's when Aimee noticed the laser rifle she held when she did as she was told and stepped out into clear sight. "How many others are with you?"

"Just Charon, my bodyguard."

At the call of his name, he casually stepped out after her with his combat shotgun held in both hands tightly, staring down at the strange woman with hooded, menacing eyes. She gave a nervous glance, intimidated by the massive ghoul, but gave no other indication of being worried or concerned if they decided to fight back.

"What did you say you were doing wandering around here, again?" The woman asked finally.

"Well, I _am_ a Wanderer! It's what I do best!" She replied cheekily, holstering Elaine and folded her arms behind her head nonchalantly. "But like I mentioned earlier, we're looking for Three Dog. Heard he was holed up somewhere around here?"

"You have that right, civilian." She pointed to a narrow alley going between two broken buildings. "Three Dog is around the corner, past the abandoned school. The Lyons Pride was about to regroup with the rest of the Brotherhood of Steel soldiers that are protecting the plaza. You are welcome to join us."

"First off, call me Aimee- it's better than civilian." She giggled.

"Sentinel Lyons." She motioned to herself in introduction before turning on her heel and walking towards the alley.

Charon could see that Aimee took it as a sign to follow, because before he knew it his large hand was captivated by both of her small hands and she was pulling him after her. Well, more like dragging him through a stumble due to the fact that he was given no warning about sudden running. They turned the corner of the alley and slowed to a halt when they came across three other Brotherhood of Steel soldiers dressed in full gear, helmet and all unlike Lyons, staring back at the two arrivals. Charon noticed a fourth one sprawled on a nearby mattress with a nasty wound on his right temple, bleeding out profusely with more crimson leaking out from his discarded helmet.

One man stepped forward, laser rifle held at a reasonable level- low enough where it didn't seem like he wanted to shoot them, but high enough where he'd be able to if they tried anything stupid.

"Who are they?" He asked, finally cradling his laser rifle on his shoulder when he figured that they were probably civilians that wandered into the bad part of town. "A stray and her shuffling mutt?"

"_Watch your __**fucking **__mouth._" Aimee hissed with hard eyes. "Why don't you do us all a favor and get stuffed into a gore bag by a Super Mutant, would you?"

_Where the hell did __**that**__ come from?_ Charon wondered thoughtfully, glancing down to his employer who looked just about ready to pounce and tear the snide man's face off- helmet and all. He supposed she wasn't kidding when she said that she wasn't going to let them hurt him- guns or words, she was sticking to it...

"Easy there, civilian." Lyons warned her, looking back to the soldier. "This is Paladin Vargas. One of the members of the Lyons Pride." Then looked to one that was crouched at a nearby elbow in the wall, peeking around to scout for something. "That is Knight Captain Colvin."

At the mention of his name, the Knight Captain got up and went over to introduce himself. He pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He must have been in his late thirties, possibly early forties, with green eyes and a blonde flat top and sweat beading on his forehead from the hot confines of his heavy helmet.

"Hello." He smiled gently, extending a hand to her. "Knight Captain Colvin."

"People call me your _royal_ highness, or m'lady!" She giggled, shaking his hand. "But friends call me Aimee."

"Then am I permitted to call you Aimee?"

"Of course," She smiled.

Charon growled quietly at the Knight Captain. He could spot that longing look a mile away- the guy had the hots for his smoothskin.

…Wait- when did _she_ become _his_ smoothskin?

"Knight Captain Colvin," Lyons called. "Give me a status report."

"Three Super Mutants have been released from their torment." He answered. "The rest are hiding."

Aimee glanced to Charon with a furrowed brow and her lower lip sucked between her teeth to chew on it. She must not have liked the Knight Captain's choice in wording…

"Jennings?" She asked, a little hopefully, but Colvin shook his head.

"He's a negatory."

Her shoulders fell slightly, but the action could have easily been overlooked due to the bulkiness of her power armor. Charon guessed that the dead soldier on the mattress was Jennings.

"Give me a report on Reddin." She glanced over to Paladin Vargas.

"Paladin Reddin is a valiant recruit of the Brotherhood of Steel, but I am afraid that her arrogance and impatience when it comes to battle throws her head-first into gunfire." He answered indifferently.

Lyons sighed, grazing a hand over her head to brush down her hair, then her eyes darted over to Aimee and Charon.

"We'll set out in a few moments civilians, we need to plan a strategy before taking over the abandoned school once more."

"Fine," Aimee nodded in understanding, not even bothering to tell the Sentinel her name once again when Colvin pounced on her once more.

"What are you doing in the D.C. ruins? Don't you know it's infested with Super Mutants?" He cocked his head slightly, shifting his helmet under his other arm.

"We do," She smiled. "But we need to speak with Three Dog. He has information on someone that is very important to me…"

"How long did it take you to travel here?"

"Hrmn…" Aimee rubbed her chin in thought and shrugged slightly. "The days are usually a blur, but I'd say almost two weeks? Maybe even slipping into three?…"

"Then I will hope that you did not come here to be disappointed," He gave another gentle smile. "I would hate to see a frown gracing such a beautiful face."

Charon watched as Aimee blinked away her surprise, her cheeks sporting a beet red blush that spread over her nose and she giggled awkwardly.

"Th- thank you, Knight Captain Colvin..." Her eyes danced away like an embarrassed schoolgirl with a blazing crush.

"Please, call me Dalton."

"Alright… Dalton." She smiled more, looking back to him.

"So where did the Lyons Pride find you and your friend?" He glanced over to Charon.

"Around the corner- we were under fire by a small group of Super Mutants. We took them down easily enough, the pain in the ass was running into _your_ group!" She laughed. "All that gunfire and yelling- I could have easily mistaken it for the Great War happening _all over again!_"

"Sorry," He replied with an apologetic smile. "We saw movement and assumed it was another horde of Super Mutants."

"Thanks," She snorted sarcastically with her hands on her hips. "Nice to know that I could easily be mistaken as a hulking, yellow, ugly Super Mutant."

"That- That's _not_ what I meant!" He stammered with wide eyes, fair-skinned cheeks flushed bright red. "I meant-"

Aimee chuckled, shaking her head. "I was just teasing you Dalton, don't worry about it!"

That's when Charon finally looked away, biting his tongue to keep from vocalizing anything, but a throaty snarl still rumbled in his chest. He grabbed his combat shotgun and walked to the corner that led to another alley towards the abandoned school. Aimee must not have noticed, because she didn't question him at all.

He crouched down by a nearby dumpster, down on one knee with his shotgun held on the other so he could make sure it was loaded when something caught his eye- a glint. His eyes quickly darted up to find it coming from the third story floor, second window to the right. He cocked his shotgun as Aimee came over, finally finding a moment to break away from Colvin to stand behind him.

"Did you find something?" She asked, taking note of how hard and glassy his eyes were. _What's his problem?_

"Third floor. Second window to the right." He replied briskly.

Aimee squinted through the glare of the afternoon sun, finally bringing a hand to her brow to shield them from the harsh light.

"I don't see anything... Wait-!" She stepped forward slightly, squinting harder. "Nope... Nada." She shook her head, looking down at him with her hand still to her brow. "You sure you saw something, Char-bear?"

"I'm sure." He growled, throwing a sidelong glance over a broad shoulder to see Colvin walking towards them. The man was following her around like a lovesick puppy...

"What are you looking for, Aimee?"

Aimee jumped with a start, giving an awkward grin to the Knight Captain. "Nothing- just scouting for Super Mutants."

The two continued to talk, joking and once in a while Aimee giggled about something clever Colvin said- Charon wasn't exactly listening. Colvin's voice irritated him to no end, and Aimee's gentle giggling was grating to boot. He darted his eyes away, trying to focus on something else when 'something else' found him, _the glint_- third floor, second window to the right.

"_Get down!_" He roared, grabbing for Aimee to pull her with him behind the safety of the dumpster.

Colvin ducked behind the corner to the rest of the Lyons Pride, narrowly dodging a line of .32 rounds following him in a line of chunked indentations in the ground before the gunfire ceased for reloading. Only in moments did the Lyons Pride react, jumping out and running down the length of the alley towards the abandoned school to return fire.

Aimee panted against Charon's chest, breath caught in her throat as she glanced up at him. His back was pressed to the siding of the dumpster bin, knees hiked up with her settled between them, resting back on her heels. Her arms were pressed against his chest, creating a barrier between the casual rise and fall of his broad chest with the quick pants of adrenaline that her own chest emitted. His collective state only reminded her how much of a frazzled mess _she_ probably looked and sounded at that moment.

She couldn't help but let a certain memory wash over her like a tidal wave of electricity, forcing her eyes to trail down to her hands, clutching his leather armor top, and she remembered how chiseled his abs were when she had to administer aid to his wounded shoulder back in Minefield.

"Are you hurt, mistress?" He asked, ripping her from her thoughts.

"Wha-" Her eyes darted back up to him. "N- No, I'm fine." She replied quickly, getting up and lending a helping hand. He was already up on his feet before he even saw the gesture.

Gunfire and the sound of laser weapons being shot off rang through the air along with the roars of enraged Super Mutants, and the whoops and hollers of the Lyons Pride for the heat of battle. The warzone brought the two back to what was happening around them, and Charon picked up his combat shotgun that had clattered to the ground when he grabbed for Aimee.

"Look at them! They're taking all the fun _and_ my kills!" She exclaimed, motioning a hand to the Brotherhood of Steel effectively, but slowly, taking back their territory of the abandoned school, then grabbed for Elaine. "C'mon, Char-bear! More fun for them equals less fun for us!"

Before he could say "As you wish, mistress.", his employer was already running off into the warzone as well, pouncing on a Super Mutant's back to plunge Charlie into its throat, then turning back to Elaine to shoot it in the face.

His employer, although quite sweet, had a dark streak that extended just as deeply as her fame throughout the Capital Wasteland for being a the one and only Messiah of the Wastes, Savior of the Damned, and any other nickname far and wide that Three Dog had managed to come up with on that loud-mouthed radio station of his.


	20. CHP 20: Is The Heart of Stone?

**Author's Notes: -LE SIGH- got no reviews for the last chapter... hope to get some for this one, though not much happens xD Well, except the little cliffhanger at the ennnnnd~ READ IT TO FIND OUT BISHNITS!**

**Btw, I've written my first one-shot, so please read it :D! PURDEH PLEAAAASE! x3 Thank you!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>"What do you <em>mean<em> they won't let us in?" Aimee bellowed with obvious irritation.

"_**Our brethren must make a clean-sweep of the area, to assure that there are no threats that could be let in when the doors are opened**_." The intercom buzzed in response.

"Aimee, we will be let in when we are done sweeping the area." Dalton assured her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she looked back into the bulk of his helmet with a sigh.

"Fine…" She brushed past him heatedly, stomping over to Charon who had his pack slung over one broad shoulder with her pack slung over the other. She took hers from him.

"We are not permitted inside?" He asked, hinted by how frustration dangled in her eyes like a haughty gem.

"No," She shook her head and groaned under her breath, chewing on her lower lip in thought once again. "God damnit…" She glanced up to see Vargas gawking at them by a burnt out bus with Reddin, and she furrowed her brows together.

"What? You're acting like you never seen a ghoul before," She hissed, and flicked her wrist outward at him, in a motion you'd use to get an irritating child away from you. "Shoo."

"Who are _you_ to talk to a member of the Brotherhood of Steel that way?" He scoffed. "You're acting like that damned Lone Wanderer Three Dog spews his guts out about."

Aimee's brows began to furrow together now with her anger flaring up again, her teeth bared back slightly.

"It'd be easier to travel without a bunch of _fan__**girls**_chasing me around…" She murmured vehemently, stalking towards the fountain with Charon following.

"What was that?" Vargas commented, walking after her with a curious kink in his step. "Wait- you don't mean…" He stopped dead in his tracks. "_You_ are the Lone Wanderer?"

Aimee sat at the fountain's edge, opening her pack to pull out assorted parts they collected while scavenging. A motorcycle gas tank and handle, a lawn mower blade, a pilot light, and other various components in order to make a weapon from a schematic she found on a dead Wastelander- a Shishkebab that she was planning on calling Patience.

"Charon, are you hungry?" She asked in an effort to ignore the prodding Paladin, pulling out the Shishkebab schematics to begin working. "There's Cram and Insta-Mash in my bag,"

"I am fine, mistress."

"Well at _least_ drink some irradiated water," She glanced up at him. "You took a nasty hit from a Super Mutant in the school. Jesus Christ how can things that _big_ move so damn _fast?_"

Aimee blinked in realization, looking Charon up and down.

"Actually, for a big guy you move pretty fast too…" She noted as Dalton walked over from the front doors of GNR.

"Seriously, are you the Lone Wanderer?" Vargas questioned again.

"What's this about the Lone Wanderer?" The Knight Captain joined in, taking off his helmet and ruffled his blonde flattop.

"This chick says she's the Lone Wanderer!" He exclaimed, pointing at Aimee.

"_I never said I was._" She snarled, hands trembling slightly as her anger began to build up.

Charon knew the two soldiers should stop talking if they wanted to keep several important limbs- Aimee would make sure to tear _something_ off despite the safety and defense of their bulky power armor.

"She can't be," Vargas continued, glancing over to her. "Three Dog said she was six feet tall and wielded a sword made out of the bones of her enemies!"

"Three Dog is a radio DJ- he needs to spruce up some news to make them headliners…" Colvin replied.

Charon could see Aimee wince at that, as if the comment had stung her. He surely knew the Knight Captain didn't mean to make a blow like that, but he could see his employer entering the territory of her breaking point. It wasn't long, now…

The two soldiers continued talking on about the famed Vault Dweller and their favorite stories of her adventures- Colvin recounting how she battled through an Old World police station full of Super Mutants to save two captives of a nearby civilization known as Big Town, then rewiring some scrap robots to continue protecting the town for them. Vargas retold the one that impressed him the most, which was the story of Aimee clearing out a giant cave of Raiders with nothing but Bethanie, her baseball bat, and Elaine, then running into a lower level of the cave where she encountered several Yao Guai and took them down without even breaking a sweat.

Charon had to admit he was quite impressed by both stories, although he had never heard of them himself. He figured she must have gone on these adventures before she met him and bought his contract from Ahzrukhal, which made him all the more taken aback by the stories. He never would have figured that she was capable of doing all that by herself- she was quite the ditz around him.

"Would you _both_ just _stuff __**it?**__" _Aimee roared, jumping up from the fountain and throwing down the parts she was working with and stomped over to the soldiers.

Charon gave a gentle sigh and began cleaning up her mess as she yelled at them.

"You know _who_ the Lone Wanderer is? She's simply a woman. She's simply a _person_ who wants to make this shit-hole world, _our world_, a better place! The Lone Wanderer can be childish at times, and yeah, she isn't all that bright, and maybe she'd like to walk around one day without men like _you_ undressing her with your eyes because all you see is a nice piece of candy ass!" She kicked dirt at their shins and stomped off towards Charon. "_Fucking __**men!**_"

"Aimee, wait! We didn't mean to upset you!" Dalton exclaimed, but he didn't bother to give chase and gave a deep sigh of guilt.

"I don't need men," She grumbled, halting next to Charon to grab her bag from the ground. "That's what I have you for."

She glanced up just in time to see the awkward twitch in his neck, and this time, she did laugh.

"C'mon, Char-bear. I wanna talk to that asshole on the intercom again, maybe I can use my _silver tongue_ to get him to open the door, hrmn?" She wiggled a playful eyebrow at him.

"As you wish, mistress." He replied impassively, following after her with his pack on his shoulder, clutching the strap with curled fingers as his combat shotgun was held casually at his side with his other hand.

Reddin walked cross Aimee's path as she went back to the burnt out bus in the far corner of the plaza to do one last thorough sweep, and the two were almost to the stairs when the ground beneath them began to tremble and shake as a vigorous bellow echoed and ricocheted off the crumbling walls around them.

Aimee cried out, covering her ears from the loud noise, but the trembling of the ground underneath her caused her to hitch forward and land on her elbows and knees.

"Fucken' _OW!_" She exclaimed, sitting up with her legs crooked in front of her body to rub at her bloody knees, and looked up to see Charon jogging over. "What the _hell_ was that? It sounded like a PO'd Yao Guai mother or something!"

Charon held out a hand to help her up, immediately yanking her up to her feet and glanced to the burnt out bus Reddin was slowly backing away from, trying to find the source of the noise.

That bellow- that blood thirsty _roar..._ He heard bullshit stories from drunken bar patrons at the Ninth Circle many times in his bouncer career but he never would have guessed-... He never even _considered..._

Were Super Mutant Behemoths... _Real?_

Aimee looked towards Reddin as well, blood rolling down her knees but she didn't even bother to clean herself up or dust herself off.

"Char-bear?" His attentions darted back to her, and she was handing him Elaine and her pack. "I need you to listen carefully, alright?"

"I understand, mistress." He nodded in understanding, watching as she pulled out Samuel and made sure he was fully loaded, grabbed a few boxes of shells for herself, and tied her pack closed.

"See that little corner over there?" She pointed up a short flight of stairs that lead to a small corner of the GNR entrance, hidden by a barricade of sandbags fairly well. "I want you to take Elaine and set up shop over there. If it's become unsafe, we'll rally at the Metro Station at the far corner," She pointed at the concrete hood of the gated entrance down the staircase.

Charon wanted to argue, tell her that the best place for him to be with her in the heat of an oncoming battle was right at her side.

_For good or ill..._ He reminded himself.

"Charon," She drilled into his thoughts sternly, and pointed at the sandbag barricade. "Please... Don't make me tell you again."

"As you wish." He replied callously, quickly making his way over when another roar echoed throughout the plaza, and he could see her steel eyes go wide as she glanced around once again.

_Seriously- what the heck is that?_ She thought with irritation, clutching Samuel so tightly with both of her hands that she felt she could have easily snapped him in two.

The fact that the plaza still groaned and shook with trembling force under her small feet, but the roaring had long since been ceased strung paranoia up her spine and wormed its way into the back of her eyes as she looked over to the burnt out bus where Reddin stood. The rhythm of the trembling reminded her of quivering footfalls... When her heart was suddenly tightening in her chest as if it were being constricted by her own veins and blood flow.

"Reddin!" Aimee screeched, running across the plaza. "Get away from there!"

The Paladin simply cocked her head at the terrified Vault Dweller as another roar ruptured the air around them, and Aimee began to run faster. it was almost like her feet weren't touching the ground anymore- it was almost as if she were being lifted away, but something heavy and metallically cold in her hands weighed her flight down.

She absentmindedly threw Samuel into the dirt and kept running- nothing was holding her back now as she halted in front of the startled Paladin and grabbed her hand, dragging Reddin after her.

"Damnit Reddin, _run!_" She exclaimed, continuing to pull on her gloved hand, and dared not look over her shoulder.

"What are you doing, civilian?" She barked with irritation.

"Run like hell _now,_ ask questions _later!_" Aimee cried in reply. "And my name's Aimee, damnit!"

The dank corner of the ruins quivered under their pounding feet again, enough to make them both run faster out of pure adrenaline pumping fear into their numb legs- but neither woman had gotten far enough when Paladin Vargas pointed past them with his laser rifle drawn, lips stretched in a yell.

A burst of heat and shower of flaming scrap parts rained around them, and the explosion was what launched both Aimee and Reddin into the air; soaring across the plaza, each a tangle of confused limbs as if they were ragdolls thrown about by a small, irritated child. Reddin landed in the crumbling fountain, helmeted skull connecting with the steps in a sickening crunch, and Aimee seemed to get the worst of it. She was flung against the centerfold of the statue with a hoarse wail of pain mixed with surprise, her petite body tumbling off like a rolling stone to fall into the water. The irradiated, icy liquid shocked her system over, but it was like her mind wasn't one with her body anymore- she barely felt a thing.

The last thing Aimee heard was the sound of her Geiger-Counter ticking away as her body absorbed the rads like a sponge, along with what sounded like Dalton screaming out orders and gunfire. The last thing she tasted was something like copper and mutfruit, and the smell of laserfire crept up her nostrils.

But the last thing she saw- the last thing she _saw_ was a horrifying blackness creeping into her vision like blurry vines curling and slithering, and it would have overwhelmed her senses if it wasn't for the clear image that chased away her rising drowsiness as it ran towards her. The clear image was Charon sprinting in her direction, almost completely disregarding his environment turning into an all-out warzone as he sprinted across the plaza. His ravaged face was twisted with something that Aimee couldn't quite place, for she had never seen her bodyguard look so… _Fearful._ His mouth was opening and closing in a throaty howl- he was screaming her name. He looked terrified.

Aimee felt like smiling, and she couldn't tell you if she was or not because she still couldn't feel a damn thing. Her senses began to dull out and pack up for the day, and even her vision of Charon running to her began to blur till he was nothing but a hazy speck of red flaking skin and black leather armor.

_Char-bear…_ She mentally snorted. _Worried?... Scared?... About __**me?**_ Yeah, she should be smiling right about now, and she was trying hard not to close her eyes and let the darkness completely overwhelm her. _He can't be… Char-bear wouldn't know the meaning of 'fear'… Would he?..._

She finally closed her eyes, barricading her mind with the image of Charon's terrified face, and her father's voice drowned out everything else as she drifted away from the Capital Wasteland.

"_**Aimee, you will do the world many great things."**_


	21. CHP 21: Fine Again

**Author's notes: SO! Here's the next chapter of Aimee and Charon's adventure! Chapter Twenty-One: Fine Again. Hope you enjoy! :D**

**It's kinda weird having Charon fight by himself, with Aimee passed out and whatnot... I liked how it came out, but I'm not that good with battle scenes Plus I love how (in-game) when Charon senses enemies, he starts swearing like a sailor and losing his cool and shiznit. It's adorable! -makes heart with hands- x3!**

**Please leave a review! They equal love!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

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><p>"Aimee! <em>Aimee!"<em> Charon howled, practically shoving or barreling over several Brotherhood of Steel soldiers that blocked his path as he ran to his employer.

She was sprawled in the shallow water, arms outstretched at her sides like wings with one of her legs crooked over the edge of the fountain, her brunette curls collecting around her head as it bobbed with the disturbed irradiated water. Blood trickled from a split in her plump bottom lip, staining her teeth pink and running down from the corner of her mouth to tint the water.

Charon fell to his knees on the steps leading up to the fountain and darted his hands in, wrapping them under her armpits to haul her out and she flopped into his lap as a soaking wet mess. Her hair was matted to the curves of her head and the angles of her cheekbones, covering over her closed eyes and he brushed them away. Her body felt cold and limp, arms spilled over her abdomen with her legs strung out between his knees and across the steps.

"Damnit, Aimee…" He growled, glancing over to see Reddin crawl out of the fountain on her own and she yanked off her helmet.

Blood rolled down from the crown of her shaved head and dripped over the side of her face. Water droplets clung to her bulky armor, beading off like a thin layer of sweat as she held her head with one hand, the other propping her up on the steps with her legs still in the fountain.

"Fu- Fuckin' _Christ…_" She murmured vehemently, looking up at Charon to stare back at him when her wide eyes fell down to Aimee in his lap. "Hey- it's that chick…"

"Reddin! Get your head out of your ass and help us out over here!" Vargas called from somewhere on the battlefield.

The ghoul bodyguard and the Paladin looked up to see a Super Mutant Behemoth wielding a club of what looked to be like a fire hydrant and a large wire basket on its back. A necklace of bones, and even halves of skeletons, strung around its neck as it bellowed at the little ants of chipped power armor that darted around under its massive feet. It was about as tall as the GNR building, and twice as sturdy.

_Sonofabitch…_ Charon seethed, not even bothering to stare up at Reddin as she pulled her helmet back on, grabbed her abandoned laser rifle at the base of the fountain steps, and lunged head-first into the warzone without hesitation.

He tucked his arms under Aimee, one going under her back with the other wrapped under the crook of her knees and he quickly got to his feet. He darted across the plaza, doing the same as before and knocking over Brotherhood of Steel soldiers that were in his path and flew up the small staircase of GNR's entrance and weaved around the sandbag barricade to where their possessions were stashed. He clambered down to his knees and laid her on the ground, pulling his pack over to tuck under her head as a makeshift pillow.

Charon's eyes drifted down her torso as his fingers did, lightly pressing into her ribs to find any damage. He found two fractured ribs, and blood began to matt strands of hair together on the side of her head. He gently parted the strands at the bloody roots to find a deep gash riddling a small spot, and he figured she hit her head on the statue.

_Two fractured ribs… Obvious concussion- _He began digging through their bags. _She can't stay asleep, she might not wake up._ He pulled out two Stimpaks and hiked up the hem of her shirt to reveal a ratty nude-colored bra, and he injected her with the Stimpak between two of her ribs till its contents were completely drained. He knew how unsafe it was to use Stimpaks for concussions, so he injected another one into her collarbone in hopes that it would alleviate some of her pain.

Charon knew he had to get her inside- inside was the only place that was safe and quiet where he could get Aimee some medical help without the threat of a lumbering Super Mutant Behemoth swinging at them with a fire hydrant as a weapon. His hard eyes darted up to the locked doors of the GNR radio building, then back to the Super Mutant Behemoth that stormed about the plaza, swinging at soldiers.

One soldier went flying towards them, and instinctively Charon braced himself over Aimee so she wouldn't get hit by the body. The soaring soldier collided into the sandbag barricade nearby, demolishing the wall so sandbags littered the floor with heavy thumps and he was sprawled on top of it, laser rifle in his lap, and he tried to pull himself to his feet. A sandbag knocked out one of Charon's elbows, causing him to fall next to Aimee, and he growled at the soldier.

The Brotherhood of Steel warrior looked over to Charon as he got to his feet, leaning into a stone pillar for support as he reloaded his laser rifle.

"Is that- _Aimee?_" He asked, momentarily stopping his reloading session to point down at the battered woman- it was Knight Captain Colvin's voice.

Charon clambered to his feet, pulling out blankets from Aimee's backpack and tossed it next to his unconscious employer as he got to his knees at her side once more.

"Aim for the eyes." He instructed sternly, sitting Aimee up slightly with one hand to pull her wet shirt over her head with the other. He had to get her soaking garments off of her and get her into something warmer, _and _cleaner.

"Wha- What?" Colvin stammered, slightly taken aback by the ghoul undressing his employer.

"_Aim for the eyes!_" Charon bellowed, turning his chin up over his shoulder to glare at the Knight Captain, and pointed out at the battlefield that was taking place in the plaza. "Disorient it by taking out its eyes!"

"Ri- Right!" He exclaimed in a baffled tone, cocking his laser rifle with a melancholy whir of power and jumped over the discarded sandbags, hopping down the stairs and jumping into battle once again.

He shook his head and turned back to Aimee, laying her back down to unlace her boots and yank them off, then tugged at her shorts and pulled those off too. He went to her backpack, finding that she had no clean clothes and dug into his bag with a throaty grumble, pulling out a slightly bloodied off-white shirt. It was part of the collection of "leisure" clothes that she bought for him. He tugged it over her head, sliding her arms into the sleeves and grabbed for the blanket and wrapped it around her, tucking the folds under her body. He began to clean the dried blood on her chin and knees, and did what he could to clean the crimson gunk from her curls. The infuriated howl of the Super Mutant Behemoth brought him back to the problem that screamed at him- _getting Aimee inside._

Charon got to his feet, pulled his combat shotgun from his back and ran to the top of the stairs at his side. He halted himself to look over his shoulder at his unconscious employer for a moment, and then darted down the stairs to the centerpiece of the plaza where some soldiers took refuge to reload weapons or hide from the Behemoth.

"Aim for the eyes," He directed, pointing at the Behemoth. "It can be taken down faster that way."

"_You again?_" Vargas looked to Charon over his shoulder, getting up from his crouched position. "What did you say?"

"I said _aim for the eyes._" He snarled callously, glare baring down on the Paladin's shoulders.

"I meant are _you_ trying to tell me what to do? Are _you_, _a ghoul_, directing what a Brotherhood of Steel warrior should do? Why don't you go find a nice, quiet graveyard to play walking dead in, zombie?" He barked.

Charon growled savagely, hooking his rotting fingers into the neck opening of Vargas' armor and yanked him close to his ravaged face, almost lifting the man off the ground.

"I've been in this fucking round-about _longer_ then you've been alive with your head up your ass- and you have the _gal_- the _nerve-_ to tell me how to operate on the battlefield?" He shoved the Paladin back, almost knocking him off his feet, but he caught his balance quickly. "That armor you're wearing? It doesn't mean _shit_ to me," He spat. "You might as well be wearing tin foil- at least you'll be shining."

"You shuffling _brain-eater!_" He exclaimed, pointing his laser rifle at him. "I outta shoot you!"

"I should do the same," He agreed. "But I can guarantee that your body will drop to the ground faster than you even knew what the fuck happened to you and your pathetic skin-bag hide."

"_Charon! Vargas!_" Lyons exclaimed, stumbling over to the two of them. "Stop dawdling and take down that Behemoth!"

"Aim for its eyes," Seriously- were these people a bunch of bigoted retards? "Herd it towards the Metro Station as well. It could be used to our advantage- use its power against it."

"How so?" She asked, enthralled by his budding plan.

"It has two advantages, strength and size. We can use its size against it." He explained.

She smirked a little in understanding. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall, huh?" She glanced over to Paladin Vargas and furrowed her brows together. "Vargas! Are your orders unclear, or are you waiting for a fucking permission slip? _Go!_ Tell the others to lead it to the Metro Station and aim high!"

"Ye- Yes!" He quickly scurried away, directing the other scattered soldiers of their new orders when Lyons stepped closer to Charon.

"I saw Aimee- go flying, I mean, when the bus exploded…" She muttered, glancing over to him. "Is she going to be alright? The Brotherhood of Steel would like to give her the honor of coming amongst our ranks, and give gratitude for saving Reddin once she awakens. She would have certainly died if it wasn't for her."

He snorted slightly at the hilarity, as this would be the _last thing_ Aimee would want upon awakening- _**another**__ fan club._

"I certainly hope that your plan works, Charon… For the sake of my men." She finished, almost hopefully, before darting away to the members of the Lyons Pride and to leave him alone by the fountain to watch them shoot at the Behemoth.

Charon looked back to the corner of the plaza where he left Aimee, almost wanting to go back over to her to brave the eye of the storm but he knew better than that. The only way to get her inside sooner was to quickly wrap up the battlefield with a nice pretty bow- who knew how much longer it would take with the Tin Can Cadets running the fucking program?

He looked back to the Behemoth stumbling about the plaza, swinging at a small group of BoS warriors that had collected, but had missed. A geyser of thick scarlet suddenly sprang forth from one of its eye sockets, causing it to stagger back a bit with the force of the hit after glowering down on the armored soldiers. It exhaled a long and loud roar of agony and frustration, swinging at them again, and again missing. This was his turn, now- he'd get the other eye, even if it killed him.

Charon ran forward, dodging some of the scattering warriors that were trying to escape from the half-blind Super Mutant Behemoth's uneven path. Some were unfortunate, getting trampled on as if one massive footfall was like a stampeding herd of angry Brahmin, and their power armor did nothing to protect them. It was the equivalent of him stepping on a sheet of scrap metal. Blood and innards spewed from every orifice their heads contained, the pressure of the Behemoth's foot rolling out their inner contents as if they were simple tubes of toothpaste with a shiny tube container.

He ducked under some high-aimed laserfire- he was partial to having a head- and continued sprinting along till he was on the edge of the Behemoth's incoherent pathway, aiming his combat shotgun at its head. No matter what, his shotgun was loyal to him- pointblank or a far off distance, he could hit a range of targets due to the fact that the spread of his buckshot was controlled because of a piece he had assembled himself and slapped it onto his weapon many years ago. It was the weapon that was modified and assigned to him back in that damned program… When he was being "trained" to become a "bodyguard".

The ghoul mentally shook his head of the thought. He couldn't get distracted- not now, when their victory was almost imminent.

He brought himself back to what was happening, retracing his aim on the Behemoth's head again and began unloading shell after shell. It ripped through the air like it were tissue paper, ringing a grating, raw roar of release as it struck home amongst the Mutant's gnarly yellow features. It caused blood to spill down from the new scratches and injuries, right between the eyes and in a little trail over its missing eye and down its cheek- just a bit more to the right, and it wouldn't have sight at all…

Charon quickly ran to the side of the fountain and out of the Behemoth's way so he could find a relatively safe spot to reload his shotgun, looking up to see the giant Super Mutant continue to stumble around. It really was having difficulty getting around with only one eye to see through.

He got up again and followed it closely, running at its side with his shotgun held in front of his body till he was a head of it by a few yards, jerking back to turn around and aim for its head again. Aiming high again, he was willing to give it another try as Brotherhood of Steel soldiers were shooting stripes of red at the back of its head. The plaza began to smell like frying blood and the pungent odor of burning, rancid flesh. He shot again, in another diagonal trail dancing across its face before another geyser of blood shot out from its only remaining eye, profusely pouring from its eye socket and down the angle of its cheek to its jaw. It roared again, dropping its hydrant club to the ground and continued staggering about the plaza as if it were a small child struggling to learn how to walk with its arms slightly outstretched as if looking for something to steady itself on.

Charon quickly evaded its path to jump over to the fountain, reloading his combat shotgun once again to go back to shooting. He instead began aiming for its massive legs in an attempt to cripple them- it was so close to the Metro Station, now. Just a few more shells, just a few more uncertain steps, and the fight would be over.

But the sound of another weapon began to howl over the sound of his combat shotgun and the laser rifles, the noise of its fire carrying across the battlefield to him out of pure familiarity. It wasn't a laser rifle, which all of the BoS warriors had, and it wasn't another combat shotgun… The click and release was repetitive- an automatic weapon. It sounded like a-

He froze with shock. _–a 10mm SMG._ He darted his eyes over to the corner where he abandoned Aimee, seeing her standing at the top of the stairs with her bare feet braced apart and Elaine held by one hand as she blearily aimed at the Super Mutant Behemoth with blank, grey eyes. An infuriated look tangled with her usually tranquil features, and she slowly made her way down the steps one by one. Her porcelain legs were bare, the dirty shirt he dressed her with whipping about her curvy frame and clung to her broad hips as she walked towards the fountain to get closer to her large target. It caused some of the warriors to stop momentarily out of bewilderment, when they realized that it was the Lone Wanderer- practically half naked and seemed to be a walking shell of what she once was before. Dried blood caked her scraped knees, and fresh ruby streams rolled down the side of her face.

"Aimee!" Charon exclaimed, getting up to run towards her when the Super Mutant Behemoth walked into his path, causing him to stumble backward and land on his back in a clap of dirt. He quickly recomposed himself and grabbed for his shotgun, getting to his feet in a crouch to steady himself and shoot at its legs again.

Blood was streaming from its eye sockets and its knees, dribbling off to mark its confused trail before another load of buckshot buried itself into the yellow flesh of one of its shins, causing it to trip forward. Its shadow neared the ground as it hitched and its head smashed into the hood of the Metro Station, causing it to collapse around its skull and it gave a few more gurgles of near-death. Unable to get up, floundering slightly in a struggle, it slowly began to still itself- without noise, without movement, it gave up and passed on.

Some Brotherhood of Steel soldiers began to crowd around it, making sure it was dead and a lot of them began to glance back and forth at each other with amusement laced in the eyes of their helmets. That was when laserfire, streaks of red singeing the air, rounded off as they gave whoops and hollers of victory over the massive kill and triumph. But those who were gawking at the bloody, half-naked, hair dripping, bleary eyed Aimee were too enthralled by her strange appearance to engage in the celebrations.

Aimee lowered Elaine to her side, slowly stepping forward with uncertain footsteps, blood lingering down the side of her face to drip onto the shoulder of his shirt.

"Da- Dad?..." She murmured, arm outstretching slightly with arched fingers, as if trying to grab onto something invisible. "I-… I can't find you… _Dad…_" She closed her eyes and let Elaine clatter to the ground at her feet, dropping to her knees.

"Aimee!" Charon called, running towards her and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from collapsing completely, letting his shotgun fall to the ground next to hers.

But she was already out of it again. Head lolling away from him and her damp curls swaying with the gentle wind, short legs numb under her body and sprawled at his knees with her arms in limp sleep at her sides. He quickly slapped his combat shotgun on his back, picked her up with both of his hands now free and strolled across the plaza with her in his embrace and his head held high. He could hear the warriors completely stop celebrating to watch what was happening and murmur to each other, voicing their confusion or explaining how _surprised_ they were that a pretty girl like her was allowing a ghoul to carry her as if she were his new bride.

"Charon!" Colvin called behind him, but he didn't slow down. The Knight Captain was at his side in mere moments, outstretching a hand to Aimee. "Here, let me help you with Ai-"

"You lay a hand on her, and you're _never_ getting it back from me…" He snarled protectively through bared, yellow teeth; his eyes hardened down onto him in a blizzard of icy shrapnel and pin-pricked pupils.

He opened his mouth to object when Lyons came up behind him, clamping a hand down on his armored shoulder and shaking her head- telling him that it would be wise to heed the ghoul's warning and back off.

Charon walked to where he had left Aimee at the beginning of battle, noting the small droplets of blood that led in a trail from the spot where she was laid all the way to the fountain where she collapsed. Shooting at the Super Mutant Behemoth, she had a look in her eyes… It was pure rage- and not the kind you were aware of, the kind you didn't _talk_ about… The _blind_ rage. It was like she couldn't quite grasp where she was or what she was supposed to do; and all she knew was that she had a gun in her hand and a massive target in front of her. _That_ was the kind of blind rage you should fear, because that's the sort of rage that runs off of almost nothing at all.

He collected their belongings and stuffed them into their packs, setting Aimee down for a moment to throw them onto each of his shoulders and picked her up once again bridal-style with her arms spilled over her abdomen. He walked to the entrance of the GNR building and pressed a finger to the intercom.

"Let us in." He demanded hoarsely.

"_**Well- it seems that the threat of the Super Mutants has been neutralized, and the Behemoth has been taken care of…**_" The man's voice drawled.

"I have a wounded girl here that needs medical attention." He snapped. "Are you going to let us in, or do I have to kick this fucking door down?"

There was a moment of insulted silence over the intercom before a buzz of admittance droned over the small speaker. Charon yanked the door open and strolled in, looking down at the battered woman in his arms.

Good God, he hadn't felt so worn for wear in a _long_ time… This woman was going to be the death of him- or be the reason why he turned feral.

As he climbed up the stairs and past the lingering stares of question the Brotherhood of Steel warriors that lined every shadow of the GNR lobby shot them, Aimee dug her fingers into the front of his armor. She tilted her head slightly to get closer to his broad chest, smearing blood up his exposed bicep, and murmured something that sounded vaguely familiar to "Char-bear".

But the ghoul _must_ have misheard her.


	22. CHP 22: You're Not Here

**Author's Notes: Well, here's chapter 22 of Aimee's adventure- Another War For Your Textbooks. Unfortunately, for the past 2 or 3 weeks I haven't gotten one SINGLE review for the story... I'm quite bummed out D: BUT! I figure it's because everyone's busy with schoolwork and whatnot (I hope so, anyways xD)**

**Whoever's reading out there, review to lift my spirits T_T!**

**Also, I have some original works that I've been meaning to rewrite for quite some time, and I began doing so today... If all goes well, I was thinking about making an account on fictionpress to post some stuff. Any thoughts?**

**Another thing- I posted two one-shots! Please read if you have the time, I'd like some feedback on both of them :D**

**Thank you for taking the time to read all this! LOVE YOOH **

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>Aimee, you will do the world many great things."<strong>_

"_Da- Dad?..." Aimee blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness that lingered around her, but nothing happened. Had she possibly gone blind? Is this what being blind was like? No- couldn't live the rest of her life in the dark! This couldn't be happening!_

"_**I'm over here pumpkin, come to daddy!"**_

"_Dad?" She exclaimed, outstretching her arms in front of her to wiggle her fingers. She saw them as plain as day- but the world around her was still dark… It terrified her. She could feel her breathing hitch, her heart pounding rampantly in her ribcage as her eyes darted through the inevitable blackness._

"_**It's just like home- don't you remember, sweetheart?"**_

"_Dad!" She cried out as she ran blindly, tripping on something in the darkness and hitching forward to land on her hands and knees, wincing at the pain that riddled up her funny bones. "Jesus…"_

"_**Aimee, are you alright?"**_

_Aimee opened one of her eyes, letting it slowly trail up a pair of lean legs, up a hunched over torso and land on an outstretched hand with masculine fingers bathed in calluses, and fell upon an almost angelic face riddled with grey facial hair and a gentle smile._

"_D- Dad?..." She murmured quietly, steel eyes widening with disbelief as her jaw popped open slightly._

"_**Here, take my hand sweetheart. I'll help you get to your feet."**__ His smile deepened, like the wrinkles that lined his forehead._

_She found herself smiling too, straightening up so she was on her knees and outstretched her hand to meet with his. But the moment her fingertips grazed his palm, his fingers withered away into a fine sand that slipped between her fingers, coating a thick layer of grit underneath her clean nails._

"_Dad!" She screeched, quickly jumping to her feet to gaze down in horror at his outstretched hand completely disintegrate into nothingness and swirl in a little tornado around her bare feet before settling._

"_**Is something wrong, darling?"**__ He asked with the smile still plastered on his face, as if letting his current state of deteriorating body go unnoticed._

"_Wha- What's happening to you?" Aimee begged, her wide eyes stinging with fat tears lingering on her lower lids and she grabbed a hold of the front of his jumpsuit, as if hoping that it would make him stay._

"_**Do you remember what I told you?"**__ He questioned obliviously, the horrifying effect coiling up his arm to his shoulder, creating stiff patches of nothingness on his forehead and cheekbone._

"_What you… told me?" She echoed, looking down to the handfuls of jumpsuit she held in her hands, feeling the thin cloth turn grimy and littered with filth under the skin of her palms, the thread fraying to create sizeable holes throughout the one piece of dark fabric._

"_**It's just like home."**__ His eyes lowered to hers. __**"But I'm not here anymore… I hoped you would accept that, but it looks like you just weren't able to. Stubborn like your old man, aren't you?" **__He chuckled proudly._

"_Wha-?" She blinked with confusion, the tears rolling down her face. "You never said that to me…" Her brows furrowed together as she looked into what remained of his face, only one pale blue eye staring down at her with half of a formidable smile._

"_Dad!" She cried, burying her face into his chest and screwed her eyes shut, clutching onto the front of his jumpsuit even tighter. "Don't-" She sniffled and hiccupped. "Don't leave me again! Not when I just found you!"_

"_**I'm not here anymore, Aimee…"**__ He murmured into her ear softly, sounding almost unapologetic as he completely disintegrated from her, the fine sand of his being sifting through the frayed holes in his filthy jumpsuit to mound at her feet._

"_D- Dad…" Aimee murmured sadly, her tears falling onto the cloth she clutched so tightly in her fists, the droplets staining it with little circles of dark blue, and she sniffed again. Where would she go now? What would she do? She found him, and she lost him… Where would she go?_

"_**I'm not here anymore…" **__His words, literally, echoed around her. Where would she go?_

_She clamped her eyes tightly shut again, more tears staining her cheeks as she collapsed to her knees and rocked back and forth, clutching the jumpsuit to her chest as his voice continued to invade her harshly._

"_**I'm not here anymore." **__Where would she go?_

_Aimee looked down to her tiny hands, still caked with the sandy remains of her father's being. His jumpsuit was gone. She looked around quickly- where did it go?_

"_**I'm not here anymore!" **__Where would she go?_

_Her eyes widened as the grains began to liquefy under her nails and in the creases of her palms, turning warm as small bubbles gurgled to the surface._

"_**I'M NOT HERE ANYMORE!"**_

_Aimee shrieked out as the liquid turned tacky and thick, accompanied by a dark shade of crimson red in her hands, dripping through her fingers and onto her feet. Looking down, she found it rolling down the length of her legs and abdomen._

_She didn't know where to go- because she felt as if there were no place else to look._

"_Dad!_" She screamed, jolting up in bed with her legs tangled in damp blankets that were pungent with sweat, and she desperately tried to kick them off, feeling as if she would suffocate and be dragged back to the depths of her vivid nightmare with them entangling her.

After taking deep breaths and examining her shaking hands, she found them to be completely dry and clean (despite the dirt that laced underneath the chipped white of her nails, and the grime and gun residue that sprinkled her skin). She wiped them down on the sheets for good measure, wringing her quivering fingers in them while murmuring quietly to herself. She wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand, eyes darting up to a dark figure that sat hunched over in a chair next to her.

The first thing she noticed was the intense blue eyes framed by soft crow's feet. It lingered on a gentle face, grey hair styled in a clean haircut with facial hair and darted down to a cobalt blue jumpsuit with the front unzipped slightly in a leisurely fashion.

"D- Dad?..." She called hoarsely, blinking at the image of her dad actually sitting next to her. She was only dreaming… She _actually_ found him, he was sitting next to her!

Aimee blinked again in an effort to hold back the oncoming tears when a gravelly voice called out for her.

"Are you alright, mistress?"

The apparition of her father shattered, revealing Charon to be the one sitting in front of her with his elbows on his knees, his rotting hands working on sharpening his combat knife. His intense blue eyes continued to linger on her, the only thing that remained of what she thought was her father.

"Char- Char-bear?" She murmured with slight surprise, tears roaming freely in little streams down her cheeks.

"...Perhaps I should call for the doctor." He stated briskly after some time, putting his knife on a makeshift table- a crate at his side- to get up from his chair.

"D- Don't go!" She exclaimed, grabbing his hand with both of hers.

Charon stopped, turning around to look down at her and slowly sat back down. He should have thought better of fetching the doctor because she suddenly lunged into his lap and landed on his knee, legs curling up to her chest as if she were wrapping herself into a protective cocoon and she latched clawing fingers onto the front of his leather armor, desperately trying to feel something that was real to her. She sobbed deeply against his chest, hiccupping and wailing incoherent things that he could barely make out. He thought it was safe to assume that she must have been having a dream, _or nightmare,_ about her father because for the past hour she had been murmuring "dad" and "don't go" over and over in her unconscious state. He _knew_ it was better to simply assume that then ask what was wrong.

"I- I _saw_ him, Charon!" She cried, shifting slightly on his lap to look up at him with her lower lip quivering. "He- He said he wasn't here anymo-more, and that I couldn't _acc-accept it-_ and- and-" Her full bottom lip began to tremble more and she bit down on it, trying to hold back more tears that threatened to come.

Charon allowed himself a _very_ quiet sigh as he hooked an arm around her, getting up to move from his chair to the edge of the bed where he rested with one leg lazily hanging over the edge. He tucked his ankle under his knee, creating a triangular shape with his legs and settled Aimee into the shape. She continued to cling to his armor with the side of her bandaged head resting against his chest, wiping her tears away and sniffing or roughly shuddering with hiccups.

He wanted to shove her away, push her off his lap and shove his contract in her face, stating that there would be no tolerance for physical touching of _any _sort... But that was the loyal bodyguard that resided in him. One look into those deep, grey eyes- and he felt something in the back of his head _screaming_ at him to leave her be. She was beaten around enough as it is without him telling her to take a hike and find someone else to cuddle with for comfort. He _dared_ disregarding his contract, and the bodyguard instincts that came with it, for her…

Besides, if he _did_ tell her to find someone else, she'd probably run off to find Knight Captain Colvin… And he couldn't have any of that.

"_Awww, _isn't that cute? I keep telling people that ghouls need love, too!" A swank voice called out.

The two looked up to see a dark-skinned man with a beard, sunglasses with circular lenses and a bandana wrapped around his head leaning on his elbow into the railing of the nearby staircase with an arrogant grin and a cocked eyebrow.

"Yo- You… Must be Three Dog?" Aimee asked a little uncertainly, quickly wiping away the rest of her tears and gave a quiet inhale to calm herself.

"You should know who I am," He chuckled. "I'm the one that's got cameras on you 24/7! But I never predicted that the one and only Lone Wanderer would be knocking on my Super Mutant-infested doorstep this deep in the D.C. ruins… Hell, who am I kidding? I never expected to be _seeing _the one and only Lone Wanderer in the flesh_ period._"

She chuckled humbly, gripping fingers falling away from Charon's chest to settle nervously in her lap.

"Is Reddin okay?" She asked abruptly, eyes widening at small bits of memory that flooded back to her. All she could remember was grabbing the Paladin's hand, dragging her away from the corner of the plaza... Telling her to call her Aimee?...

"If you're talking about the chick that went flying with you after that bus exploded- she's as fit as an untuned fiddle! Sarah wanted to talk to you once you gave a good rise and shine- give ole' Three Dog a minute to get her. These aching bones aren't what they _used_ to be!" He cackled boisterously, spinning on his heel to walk down the stairs with an interesting kink in his step as he whistled a tune that sounded similar to "Let's Go Sunning".

The door at the bottom of the staircase creaked open, then momentarily slammed shut. Charon looked down at Aimee.

"Flying?..." She furrowed her brows together, eyes dancing over to meet his. "Exploding _bus?_ What is he talking about?"

"I believe I should go get the doctor to check on you." He stated profoundly.

"I'm fine," She shook her head. "Just had a nightmare about dad…" She glanced away.

"Do you believe that I'd get the doctor because you had a nightmare?" He snapped.

Aimee winced at that.

"Well… that's not why I am concerned." He softened. "At least allow me to look at you." He demanded more than asked, and her eyes darted back up at him with a mischievous grin on her face.

"_**Make** me._" She challenged with a sly glint in her eye- and that twitched him slightly.

"May I remind you the events that occurred the _last_ time you said those words to me, mistress?" He replied with an arched brow muscle. _He_ certainly remembered...

Her eyes widened slightly in recollection of the memory.

"...I retract the words I previously said."

"That would be wise."

Aimee sighed, glancing around the room when she looked down at her seating arrangements and blushed a deep shade of scarlet when she recognized that she was still on his lap.

"S- Sorry!" She exclaimed, scurrying off so she was sitting on her legs at his side on the bed, looking at him with an awkward smile.

"It's understandable. You were seeking comfort, and I was the closest thing." Charon stated evenly as he got up from the bed. "You were unconscious for roughly four hours. I had the doctor look at you, and he said that with a little sleep, a few Stimpaks and some Med-X you would be fine," He explained as he went to their bags in the far corner, picking through his to pull out purified water and Yum Yum Deviled Eggs to hand to her. "He says that you should not engage in vigorous activity for a few days."

"It's a little late to be telling me _that,_ Char-bear," She snorted childishly, ripping apart the box to devour its flaky contents and took heavy gulps of water. "I pretty much pounced on you already." She joked as the door at the base of the stairs swung open, and Lyons was hopping up them two by two till she got to the top.

"Aimee," She greeted, slightly out of breath, with a gracious nod. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm just peachy keen! The bee's knees! The cat's meow! Over the moon and past the stars!" She replied sarcastically. "No, but seriously, I'm hurting like a mother fucker right now."

"Then you shouldn't have jumped on me." Charon piped up with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

"_Always_ the first one to jab!" She stuck her tongue out at him as Three Dog came up the stairs with Colvin following. He was dressed in baggy canvas slacks, army boots, and an off-white shirt.

"Colvin wanted to pop in and say heya too," The radio DJ announced, pulling up Charon's abandoned chair to spin it around so the backing was facing him and plopped down into it, crossing his arms at the wrist over the back support casually.

"The non-power armored vibe is a good look for you, Dalton." She chuckled playfully. "_Really_ shows how toned you are!"

She wasn't kidding at all although she had laughed some- she could see the outlines of his sculpted abdomen and chest. The guy must have been late thirties and could pass as her uncle or something, but man, he was _handsome._ And buff!

"Let me have a look at you," Dalton directed through a few chuckles as he gently tugged her to the edge of the bed by her hand. He got to his knees in front of her, pulling out a small flashlight to shine it in her eyes and go over some basic testing.

"Where's Doctor Taylor?" Charon asked protectively, standing over Dalton with his arms crossed over his broad chest and he had a predator-like hardness in his eyes.

"He's working on the other wounded soldiers. Aimee isn't the worst off here, but she's still top priority." He replied, having her eyes follow his finger in front of her face. "She is the Lone Wanderer after all. Many of the other warriors are concerned of her wellbeing."

"Charon, can you get me some pants?" She asked as he began checking her reflexes. "I feel sorta _naked_ without them, you know…" She looked down to her half naked form. She was in nothing but a dirty t-shirt with a bloody right shoulder and her dark grey under shorts. Who took her clothes? Did Dalton or the doctor change her?

She picked at the clothing from her shoulder, eyes widening when she recognized it as a shirt she had bought for _Charon._ _**Charon **__changed me?_ She thought in a slightly panicked state. She didn't know why she was panicking- she just hoped that he didn't… _See_ anything of particular interest…

Dalton tapped lightly on her kneecap with a reflex hammer, causing her foot to lurch up and kick him in the side. He huffed out a gentle "oof" of pain and winced back to rub his ribs.

"Sorry!" She exclaimed, trying _desperately_ not to laugh, and she covered her mouth with a quick hand to hide the smile she couldn't repress.

"Reflexes are good," He grunted, still holding his side and he glanced up at her with a gentle smile. She looked over his shoulder at Charon, who seemed to have the words "that was funny, but I'm not going to show how funny I think it was", riddled all over his scowling face.

"The Lyons Pride would like to honor you with a position amongst our ranks," Lyons- _Sarah,_ Aimee recalled Three Dog calling her- began with a stoic expression. "You and your bodyguard."

"Uh," She blinked with slight curiosity, allowing Dalton to continue checking her reflexes. "Guess I must be doin' _something_ right, then?…"

Her blonde brows furrowed together with confusion. "You don't remember the Super Mutant Behemoth? I could have _sworn_ I saw you shooting at it…"

"Su- Super Mutant _Behemoth?_" She shrieked, eyes flying wide open and she pushed Dalton back so she could jump up towards Lyons. "Those fucking things _exist?_"

Three Dog whistled with amusement and fixed his glasses on his nose. "Speakin' of scrambled eggs- you must have _deep-fried_ yours pretty damn good if you don't remember diddley-doo-dah-_shit._"

"As you were trying to escape with Paladin Reddin, the bus that was positioned on the far side of the plaza exploded, and in came a Super Mutant Behemoth." Lyons explained, glancing at Three Dog with a slightly irritated look. "I saw you and Reddin both go sailing. Reddin was fine, but you… Well," She glanced over to Charon now, irritated look softening. "I spotted your bodyguard running towards the building with you in his arms. Doctor Taylor informed me that you had a minor concussion, multiple lacerations and contusions, along with a fractured third and fourth rib- and that your bodyguard did what he could to help you before returning to the battle."

"You- You went back?" Aimee asked quietly, looking over at the ghoul.

"I had to get you inside for proper medical treatment. The only way to gain entry was by terminating the Super Mutant Behemoth." He explained impassively, still standing behind Dalton with his arms folded over his chest.

"Wait, _hold up!_" Her big grey eyes darted back to Lyons, and she threw her hands up in confusion. "Where's the Behemoth now?"

"With Charon's aid, we managed to bring it down." She smiled slightly, swooping a gracious arm to the ghoul. "He single-handedly directed the Brotherhood of Steel warriors that were out on the battlefield, and gave them their orders. He directed that we aim for the eyes to blind it before turning the tables and using its strength- its _power_- as a means to destroy it."

"Bottom line is, your bodyguard pretty much took the Behemoth down on his own." Dalton chuckled slightly, tugging on Aimee's elbow and motioned to the bed. "Please, lay back down and rest. You shouldn't be standing around- your body needs to recuperate."

Aimee pulled back slightly, eyes still trained on Charon and the muscle in his neck twitched.

"You… You did that _alone?_"

"Not alone, mistress. I worked with the Brotherhood of Steel." He answered in a matter-of-factly tone.

"Alone as in not with _me!_" She cried worriedly, pointing to herself with a sharp finger. "What if you were injured, too? What if you got _stepped on_ by that Behemoth? What if you were _killed?_"

"I was not injured, nor was I killed… Obviously."

"But what _if?_" She argued, growing slightly agitated.

"Are you doubtful of my skills, mistress?"

"Wha-?" Her eyes widened slightly, her anger retracting and swelling into shock, and she shook her head gently. "Char-bear, I _know_ what you're capable of, but when I'm not able to fight at your side, I- I just…"

Aimee chewed on her lower lip, unable to find the words that she wished would part from her mouth, and her eyes danced across the room to the three intruders; Lyons, Dalton, and Three Dog.

"We get it, Vaultie." Three Dog assured, already making his way down the steps with a slight wave over his shoulder, without looking back.

"I will return to check up on you, Aimee." Dalton smiled, and turned to leave with Lyons.

Aimee held her breath till the door shut and she exhaled heavily, glancing back to Charon. She slowly stepped towards him, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead against his broad chest as she hugged him tightly.

"Like I was saying- Charon... I could _never_ doubt you. After everything we've been through, I've noticed that you seem to have a knack for surprising me _right after_ I think you've shown me everything you can do!" She laughed softly into his armor, letting some silence come between them. "But I don't feel comfortable letting you fight alone. I don't feel right _knowing_ that I was doing nothing while you had to work with assholes like Vargas," Her brows furrowed together, and she stepped towards him. "I don't feel right knowing that I'm not at your side…"

Charon looked down at the top of Aimee's head as she continued hugging him. He recalled how she looked like an empty shell- resurrecting herself from her unconscious state to fight with him on the battlefield. She was only in the moment- _this is my gun, this is my target; I know what I need to do-_ but once the Behemoth was dead and he ran towards her, she began mumbling about how she couldn't find her father, James. He didn't think the man was here, in Three Dog's studio… Aimee had been unconscious for four hours, and if the guy were here, wouldn't he come to see his injured daughter?

Unless he felt guilty for dumping her on her ass back in the Vault, of course…

He didn't quite know if he should be the one to tell his employer of his musings.

"Well, with that cleared up." Aimee stretched slightly, breaking his line of thought. "I wanna talk to Three Dog about dad…" She looked around before looking back up at him with a deep smile. "I haven't seen him yet. I hope we didn't miss him…" She began chewing on her lower lip once again- out of pure fear, more than worry.

Charon knew that the Vaultie would find out soon enough anyways, and figured that it would be better that someone _else_ take the fall in this "shoot the messenger" scenario.

_Sorry, Three Dog._ He thought, not at all sorry for sacrificing the radio DJ as the messenger.


	23. CHP 23: The Name Is Sir SulksALot

Charon carefully packed his bag; throwing in several boxes of food, two bottles of irradiated water, shells, and extra clothes (just because Aimee was giving him hell about possessing something _other_ than his leather armor- nothing could be said about his combat shotgun, though).

He glanced up momentarily to see Aimee working on Patience, trying to create some sort of fuel stopper so the weapon would only use as much as it needed to ignite the blade and keep it that way so they wouldn't have to scrounge around for fuel as often. Patience had become her new toy, one of her new favorite weapons of choice due to the fact that Samuel was now gone. She dropped him while trying to escape with Reddin from the threat of the exploding bus, and after scavving the remnants of the battlefield, they found him smashed to pieces in an indentation of the Behemoth's giant footprint. Samuel was too badly damaged to be repaired or even _salvaged_, and Aimee gave him a proper burial in the bottom of a trash bin. She was dramatically sniffling the entire time.

It had been a week since the battle with the Behemoth in the plaza. The two spent their entire stay with Three Dog helping out with repairs around the studio- well, Aimee was anyways, while Charon helped keep the infestation of Super Mutants at bay alongside the Brotherhood of Steel. The simple presence of the one and only Vault Dweller, the Lone Wanderer, Miss One-Oh-One and that _crazy_ kid from Vault 101- whatever hero names Three Dog came up with, really- packed a punch with morale amongst the soldiers. She and Colvin were getting awfully close in the week that they were at GNR- fighting side by side, her teaching him some basic repairs and how to think quick on his feet in the heat of battle- like means of leverage to gain the upper hand in battle. The Knight Captain was trying to get all warm and cozy with Aimee, and the reason why he wasn't playing tonsil hockey with her right now was because Charon managed to keep him away with pure intimidation. Plus, Aimee was _completely_ clueless of Colvin's affections, so it helped the ghoul some as well.

The reason they were packing up now was because Three Dog was pretty much giving them the short end of the stick. He stated that James was no longer in the studio, but he knew where he had gone, _but_ would reveal the information- at a _price_ (_smooth old bastard,_ Charon thought with a slight scowl). He requested that they fix the GNR radio dish mounted at the top of the Washington Monument obelisk, and Aimee mentioned that the broken dish explained why the channel's broadcasts were shit anywhere beyond the D.C. ruins. The only replacement dish the DJ's scav team had caught wind of was a lunar dish attached to an old Pre-War space exhibit in the Museum of Technology. The exhibit was known as the Virgo II Lunar Lander, and it was Aimee's only chance of finding her father. Her silver tongue couldn't wiggle their way out of the predicament, Three Dog took his stand on the deal. Aimee had no other option but agree to it.

"Jesus kiddies," Three dog mused as he hopped up the stairs. "Can't believe you're actually doin' this for Three Dog. You must really wanna find your old man."

"Of course," She nodded and smiled sadly. "But what I'm going to do with him once I find out where he is? That's another story in itself…"

"You sure you don't want the boy scouts helping you two out?" He raised a brow dubiously.

"Why would Char-bear and I need help?" She blinked with curiosity.

Three Dog's glasses lowered on his nose so his eyes peeked over them to gawk at her. "'Cause the Super Mutants might violently, and _horrifically,_ rip you to shreds? Maybe stuff you into a gore bag after, and eat your flesh for a midnight snack- use your toe bones to pick out whatever's left in their teeth? Perhaps use your spine as a stylish necklace? Ringin' _any_ bells for 'ya, Vaultie?"

"Oh," She chuckled slightly and shook her head. "Nah. We'll be fine!"

His eye twitched slightly and he glanced over to Charon, hooking a thumb over at Aimee.

"Your gal is bat-shit _insane._"

"I am well aware that my employer is quite bizarre." He replied simply.

"_Hey!_" Aimee cried in a pout.

"Well is _she_ aware that my One-Oh-One broadcasts don't exactly make her bulletproof?" Three Dog asked, and Charon shook his head in reply. "If anything, it's just painting a giant-ass target on her forehead!"

"Aimee," A voice called as a soldier donning power armor trekked up the stairs. It was Colvin. "Are you about to depart?"

"Just about," She nodded, shoving the rest of her clothes into the bag. It was mostly tattered garments, but the bulk was some of her armor. "Maybe in about half an hour."

"I'm glad I caught you then," He smiled gently, holding out a handful of Stimpaks. "Here- for your travels."

Aimee's eyes widened as she slowly got to her feet from her knees, walking towards him to stare down at the medical supplies in his gloved hands.

"Oh, oh my-…" She murmured, eyes darting back up to him. "Dalton this is _so_ much! Stimpaks cost _at least_ twenty caps a pop!"

"It will be worth it if it will keep you safe on your travels." He replied in a shy voice.

Charon snorted quietly at the Knight Captain's attempts to _woo_ his employer. All the hints he's dropped so far have been all in vain, for Aimee would just brush it off or not even notice the extent that they reached. She was happily oblivious that way.

"Th- Thank you…" She murmured meekly, smiling broadly up at him. "I'll be sure to repay you for this."

"Your safe return is enough for me." Dalton replied. "Just- promise me, that you'll be careful?"

"Of course I'll be safe Dalton," Aimee smiled.

"Well- at least when the Super Mutants are yanking you apart limb by limb my conscience will be the only thing screaming at me," Three Dog lightheartedly commented.

"I have my Char-bear with me, the Super Mutants aren't gonna get _any_ of this!" She motioned to her curvy figure with an arrogant smirk.

He snorted. "Aw, you even have an embarrassing nickname for him? That's too damn cute- makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, Vaultie."

Charon growled at the radio DJ, but he simply chuckled as Aimee checked her Pip-Boy for the hundredth time that morning, Colvin rounding her to peek over her shoulder.

"I've mapped out the route Char-bear and I are going to take," She explained to him, noticing his curious expression. "The bitch in this mission is navigating through the Metro tunnels- one wrong turn, and you could spend the better part of your morning getting chewed up and spit out by Super Mutants or feral ghouls."

"Life is a bitch kid- 'cause if it were a prostitute, it'd be easy." Three Dog pointed out.

Charon couldn't quite figure out how the man could say that with a straight face- he couldn't figure out why Aimee thought it was so damn funny, either. She was hunched over onto her knees, clutching her side as she laughed.

"Oh my God! Ow! My Side! Char-bear, _help me!_" She pleaded with tears rolling down her face to the corners of her broad smile.

"You are on your own on this one, mistress." He replied impassively.

"Mr. Grumpy-Pants," Her laughter died down to a hysteric giggle as she straightened up, wiping her cheeks dry.

"I will not lower myself to your childish antics." He shot back firmly.

"Sir Sulks-A-Lot." The giggling turned to a hiccup of chuckling, and she took a deep breath to calm herself.

Charon remained silent, still refusing to give her the satisfaction of getting to him and simply stared at her with his arms crossed over his chest, his icy blue eyes narrowed down on her.

"…Lord Trigger-Happy." She finally spoke with a mischievous smile.

…Oh, _he_ was trigger happy?

Compared to _her?_

Hardly!

"May I remind you that Three Dog has given me a surplus of ammo on your whole "shining beacon to the damned", Messiah of the Wastes, Wasteland Savior persona." He stated pointedly.

"Shutting up now," Aimee replied quickly, slipping the Stimpaks into her satchel of medical supplies and tossed it into her bag, drawing the mouth shut and tossing it to her shoulder. "We should get going before the morning gets away from us. I like setting out early!" Aimee began to march past Colvin when he immediately caught up with her stride and flew to the bottom of the stairs, holding the door open for her.

"Here, let me walk you out, Aimee."

"_Aw,_ aren't you a sweetie?" She giggled, stepping past him and he held the door open for Charon as well, walking next to him as they trailed behind Aimee by only a few feet.

"Have you- uh, been protecting Aimee long?" The Knight Captain asked awkwardly, glancing up to make sure she was out of earshot.

"Talk to Aimee." Charon replied almost instantly, not even bothering to turn his gaze down to Colvin.

"Wha- What?"

"Talk. To. _Aimee._" It almost felt strange not having to say 'talk to Ahzrukhal' anymore. He was quite thankful for it, in all honesty. It was just… _Bizarre._

"Please- hear me out, just a moment?" Colvin pleaded. "I want to surprise her with something, but I don't know what she likes…"

His walking slowed for a moment as he stared down at the Brotherhood of Steel warrior. The man was stepping up- resorting to gifts to win Aimee over… It was a little sickening, and damn right irritating. Shouldn't he know what Aimee liked by now? They had been attached at the hip for the past week.

It wasn't necessarily a difficult question, Charon knew what his employer liked right off the bat- but he had to tip his hat to the fact that he was an observant person, and Colvin probably wasn't. She liked to read and she liked to write poetry, she loved anything that was purple or black, she gave her undivided attention (with an unnerving passion, he might add) to anything that was Pre-War and seemed to be untouched by years of radiation and the abandon of the Capital Wasteland (clothes, books, toys, bobble heads especially, you name it), she loved working with her hands (as most of the furniture in her house she made herself,) , and she had an acquired taste for Cram.

"Lyons Pride is going on several scavving excursions soon to pick over the abandoned buildings littered around the D.C. ruins," Colvin's voice broke into Charon's thoughts, shattering them. "They go untouched mostly due to the threat of the Super Mutants, and I wanted to bring her back something… It'd be easier if I knew what she liked." He explained.

Charon opened his mouth to refuse even _thinking_ about lending the Knight Captain a hand when Aimee stomped over.

"_There _you two are!" She cried, halting in front of them. "I was walking along when Reddin stopped me and asked me why I was talking to myself!" She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"S- Sorry," Colvin apologized meekly.

"Knight Captain Colvin!" Sarah called by the smashed in Metro Station, motioning for him to come to her.

"I should go," He glanced to Aimee.

"Yeah, yeah," She smiled and chuckled, hooking a thumb to Sarah. "Duty calls!"

Colvin pulled off his helmet just enough where everything from his nose down was revealed. He took Aimee by her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the upside.

"Be safe, Aimee…" He murmured against her fingers as he put his helmet back on and stared down at her for a moment before jogging away.

Aimee gawked at the retreating Brotherhood of Steel warrior. She slowly raised her hand, inspecting the outline of the kiss Colvin had placed there with a curious look smoothing over her beautiful features.

"That was… _strange._" She averted her eyes to Colvin once more, watching him go over something with the rest of the Lyons Pride.

"The Brotherhood of Steel are strange people." Charon snarled quietly, watching Aimee to find that she seemed to have her gaze fixated on the Knight Captain with an interested glint. Was she getting the picture now? Or was she still trying to decipher its meaning?

The throaty grumble he admitted snapped her out of her daze, and her eyes darted to him as an awkward smile overcame her lips.

"Ready to go?"

"Of course, mistress."

The two began making their way towards the abandoned school when Aimee suddenly called out.

"Hey, Char-bear! I think I see a Centaur! Where's Patience? I wanna set it on fire!"

_She_ had the nerve to call _him_ trigger happy?

Compared to her?

…At times, _hardly._


	24. CHP 24: Who Are You, Really?

**Authors Notes: ALLOOOOOO! :D What's up, guys? Here comes the NEW chapter of Aimee's story, Chapter Twenty-Four: Who Are You, Really?**

**Just a quick note to all of you- there will be a part where the words "her" and "she" will be in bold lettering, and I made it this way so you wouldn't become confused with who he is referring to. Charon is referring to someone of his past, _NOT_ Aimee. You will know who this person is in a chapter or so :D**

**Also- when you leave a review, I appreciate _any_ sort of review, but can you guys be a little more _constructive?_ I write fanfictions to practice my writing skills for my original work. Every little bit helps!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Charon stared into the roaring fire resurrected between him and Aimee. His knees were hiked up, elbows propped on top of them as his hands worked on sharpening his combat knife. Aimee had a blanket laid out in front of her, Elaine's parts scattered on top of it as she cleaned the 10mm SMG down piece by piece. The sigh she emitted broke the silence, and his eyes flickered up to her.<p>

"Three Dog says to navigate our way to the Museum of Technology," She began as she started reassembling Elaine in her lap. "The exhibit we need to find is the Virgo II Lunar Lander, which is in the deeper part of the museum." She glanced up to him. "We need to find the dish, bring it to the Washington Monument, and replace it with the broken one."

"Yes, I recall what our mission is." He cocked his head slightly at her with amusement. "I _was_ there when Three Dog gave us the details of what we needed to do."

Aimee blushed with slight embarrassment, eyes rolling over to the fire. "I- I knew that… Just making conversation, I guess."

She returned to completing the task of putting Elaine back together, chewing on her bottom lip like she always did when she was thinking deeply about something. Charon kept his eyes trained on her, unwilling to return to sharpening his knife. She had something on her mind; that much was obvious.

Her eyes finally captured his, and she froze in place with the light of the fire dancing over her pretty face. "Wh- What?"

"Is something bothering you, mistress?"

"No," She shook her head quickly in reply, but her shoulders soon drooped and she sighed. "Yeah… Something is, actually."

"What is it?"

She set Elaine down once putting the last part into the correct place and circled around the fire on her hands and knees, plopping down at his side to lean back on her elbows with her knees hiked up.

"I wish I hadn't dropped Samuel…" She sighed again, running her fingers back through her short brunette curls.

_**This**__ again._ Charon thought edgily.

"A battlefield is confusing," He replied simply, trying not to voice is irritation while staring down at her. "Things like this will happen."

"Well I wish it didn't!" She groaned, head lolling back and she stretched a leg straight out in front of her.

The topic of discussion was beginning to grate on Charon's nerves- _no one_ should be _that_ attached to a weapon. Sure, he was certainly attached to his own combat shotgun, but that was for his own reasons and he didn't go as far as naming the damn thing and talking about it as if it were another human being… But he supposed that was what made Aimee- _quirky. _It was what made her, _her; _just like her obsession with Vault-Tec bobble heads and anything from the Old World.

He supposed he'd have to get her to understand in a different way.

"Samuel weighs a bit, correct?" Charon asked finally.

"Uh, ye- yeah… Seven pounds." She replied. "Why are you asking?"

"What do you think would have happened to you if you hadn't dropped him in your escape with Paladin Reddin?" He asked bluntly. "Wouldn't he have weighed you down, when you narrowly missed being hit by that explosion with the bus?

Aimee's eyes darted away ruefully to gaze into the licking flames of their fire pit as she nibbled on her lower lip once again. She knew the answer to that, and he knew that he didn't have to explain any further.

"...What would have happened to you if I had died?" She shot back finally in a hoarse mutter, sitting up to wrap her arms around her knees and hug them to her chest.

"What do you mean?" Charon asked, eyes still keeping on her to watch the orange flicker of the fire bronze her usually porcelain skin. He noticed that despite the hours and hours they spent trekking across the Wasteland, she never tanned. She usually went straight to the pink of sunburnt, and it just gave her another reason to whine as they traveled.

"Exactly as how I meant it," She gave a sad chuckle, and looked up at him. "What would have happened to you if I had died that day?"

He didn't quite know- an employer had never died in his services. He was just _that_ good, or maybe just that fortunate. He supposed he'd travel to the nearest town, hock it off on anyone who wanted him… Or due to their current company, he would have been given to the Brotherhood of Steel. Their ranks obviously don't tolerate ghouls, so they'd find _some way_ to get him to take a hike. He couldn't just _be_ free suddenly- his contract needed a contract holder, and he needed an employer- he needed someone to protect... He was to _immediately_ find a new employer, and he didn't use the word lightly.

So how could he answer her question?

"My contract would be given to someone else," He explained vaguely.

"I didn't ask what would happen to your contract," Aimee replied, scooting closer to him to lean on her hands in the dirt, brows overhanging her eyes that observed him sadly. "I asked what would happen to _you._"

"My contract and I are one in the same- the sooner you understand that," His eyes flickered up to her. "The better."

"_Jesus_ Char-bear!" She laughed, but the sadness continued to linger in her eyes. "Couldn't you just say that you'd cry at my funeral or _something?_"

"I could have," Charon mused with a shrug, putting his combat knife away.

"_Jerk._" She stuck her tongue out at him childishly, folding her arms over her chest.

Charon believed that she _truly_ looked like an innocent child right at that moment. _Way_ too innocent to be here- covered in filth, squatting in the dead of night in an abandoned Metro Tunnel with a ghoulish bodyguard, waiting for the sun to rise so they could continue on one step closer to finding her missing father... _Way_ too innocent and young to know what it felt like to be hurt and be alone…

"Let's play a game to pass the time!" Aimee piped up, making his eyes snap back to her to see her head cocked to the side. "You know more about me than most people, but I guess it's a given since you're always with me!" She sighed contentedly. "But I still wanna know… Are you seriously a Pre-War ghoul?"

He growled quietly at his employer, eyes stealing away to the cackling fire, but it only made the screams in his memory so vivid and real… He saw exploding cars, crumbling buildings, people killing each other and howling like animals… He saw nothing but red, radiation, and peeling skin in a flash of an instant. Walking into that radiation, he thought he could end it all- end the heartache that riddled his bones, end the synapses that snapped in his brain like a clicking tongue to the images of **her **face… He had been a coward. A _fool_ of a coward. He always looked down the barrel of his own gun, hoping for his trigger finger to give him the release and comfort he desperately wanted, but his finger never twitched, and he never went anywhere but to the deepest confines of his thoughts where **she **lingered.

"Charon?" Aimee's lips were pursed together in a tight, white line. "I can tell that you don't like this game so far…"

He growled again to confirm that, and looked down to see her hand hovering over his knee hesitantly, as if asking for permission to comfort him. The moment he felt her fingertips rake over the leather knee cap of his armor, the screaming and the fire and the flaking skin snapped off in an instant- like he was a light switch and she was turning him off till she felt the need to resurrect the light- _his memory- _once again.

"Look… I'll leave it alone, okay?" Aimee sighed, offering him a gentle smile. "I'm sorry."

Charon's eyes snapped back up to her. She was _apologizing?_ For the love of Pete…

"About your-…" She swallowed hard. "_Contract…_" He knew she hated using the term, it defined who he was- a brainwashed bodyguard. Not much of anything else, if you ask him. "The whole incident with Reddin, and me passing out… And our conversation now?... It- well, it confirms something I've been thinking about for a few days now."

"And what would that be, mistress?" He cocked his head to the side with slight curiosity.

"What would have happened to you… If I had died." She sat up and scooted closer to him, hugging a knee to her chest. "Charon, if I die anytime during our little crusade, and I'm not able to find my father? I-... I want _you_ to keep looking for him."

"Am I to become his employee, in that case?"

"What?" Aimee's brows furrowed together, and she shook her head. "No, he's not your employer."

"Mistress, it does not work like that. I need an employer."

"For God's _sake,_ Charon!" She screeched with irritation, gawking at him. "You'd be a _free man!_ Your _own_ man! Free to roam the Wastes, seeking adventure and fortune, like me!"

"We already had this discussion. I stated that I cannot live the lifestyle that you have because I have no one out there to look for," Charon stated simply. Well, if Aimee died, he supposed he _would_ be looking for someone- a new employer.

"I- I know…" She nodded with understanding, full bottom lip sucked between her teeth to chew on it. "That's why I'm _giving_ you someone to look for."

"…Your father." He understood now. This was her final request, in case she were to be killed while they were out searching for him… He was to continue the search.

"See?" Aimee giggled, coming closer to him to lay her head on his shoulder and her hand on his knee. "You're a lot smarter than you let on… And you know what else?" She tilted her chin up to him, a gentle smirk on her face.

"What?" He asked, not even daring to look at her when they were in such close proximity.

But her hand latched onto his chin, and she directed his face to her till their eyes met.

"You're amazing- but your contract just keeps you from seeing it…"

* * *

><p>"I'll wear your <em>bones around my ne-" <em>BOOM.<em>_

"_Game's over! _Time to di-" _BOOM._

"Kill! Kill them a-" _BOOM._

Charon reloaded his combat shotgun quickly, eyes darting to Aimee as she evaded the swing of a nail board from another Super Mutant and jumped back skillfully, unloading Elaine on its face till she was empty. It fell backward, landing on the floor with a heavy thump and stopped moving.

"Huh," She picked up the mutant's dropped weapon, poking at one of the crooked nails crammed through the knotted and rotted wood. "Interesting weapon!" She smiled, swinging it around a few times to try it out.

"You have _enough_ weapons." He reminded her, and as routine would have it, he went back to her with his hands full of loot from the dead super mutants. Several hunting rifles were slung onto his shoulder by their straps, some frag grenades were cradled in his arm with ammo in his hands.

"_**I** have enough weapons?_" She accused, pointing at the rifles that riddled his back. "Then what is_ that!_"

"These are for_ trade._ Underworld is nearby, correct?" He pointed out, dropping the rifles at her feet in a clatter. There were five in all. He handed her .32 rounds- _he must have emptied the guns already, _she thought.

"Would you be okay with going back to Underworld?..." Aimee murmured, picking through the heap of rifles to find the best one. _No one_ could have enough weapons!

"What do you mean?" He was staring at her with that knowing glint in his eyes. He knew she was going to find another weapon to name, despite the fact that she _did_ have enough weapons to carry. They couldn't get over-encumbered because of her quirk to grab anything she found that was shiny.

…It was a habit- sue her.

"Well, I just assumed it was a bad place for you to be, or something." She replied, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"The Capital Wasteland is one big "bad place", mistress." He pointed out matter of factly.

"I'm talking about your time with Ahzrukhal," She shot back, finally finding the rifle in the best condition out of the five and began loading it up. "That's why I'm asking if you'd be okay to go there for trade… Thought it'd give you bad memories."

"I said you had enough weapons with you." He reminded her, evading the subject.

"Well then, what's another one to you?" She arched a brow at him, a crooked smile on her lips as she cocked the rifle. "Say hi to Hunter!"

Charon sighed. If he still had a nose, he'd be squeezing the bridge of it right now with a shake of his head in irritation.

"_Stupid human!_" A Super Mutant called, running through the double doors at their side with a sledgehammer held high above its head.

Aimee gawked up with wide eyes, jumping up from the ground to stumble on the rifles she scattered in her search to find Hunter. She landed on her stomach and elbow, legs strung out behind her and she quickly rolled onto her side, gazing up in horror at the Super Mutant.

Charon saw a flash of those wide, grey eyes that held such a look of horror that he reacted quickly, ramming into the mutant with his shoulder- using brute force and strength so it was pinned against the wall. He pulled back, grabbing the handle of his combat knife and lashed out at it, slicing across its massive throat. The mutant gurgled out, blood spewing from its wound and fell to its knees, toppling over into a lifeless heap.

He looked back to his employer, only panting slightly as he sheathed his blade and walked back towards her, holding out a hand to help her up.

"Are you alright, mistress?"

She nodded, gawking at _him _now with a strange look in her eyes. She took his hand and was pulled up to her feet, dropping Hunter in the process.

Charon turned away to their packs and threw his onto his shoulder, returning to Aimee with hers and handed it to her. She took it with a gracious nod and shoved their scattered loot into her bag quickly, slinging it onto her shoulders. He turned and walked out the double doors with his shotgun drawn and Aimee following him closely with Elaine drawn and her new rifle held in her other hand at her side.

"…I can't take Hunter, can I?" She asked after some time.

"No," He replied simply.

He didn't bother to look back. The sound of a short huff of defeat and the clatter of a dropped rifle was _all_ the answer he needed.


	25. CHP 25: The Bittersweet Prick of Rose

**Author's Notes: SO! Here's CHP 25 of Another War For Your Textbooks :D I haven't been getting many reviews as of late, and like I mentioned before I don't doubt it's because you people are busy (or maybe do not feel like reviewing) but fingers crossed that they pick up during Christmas break! -crosses fingers a thousand times over-**

**So- enjoy! :D**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Charon casually walked out of the Vault-Tec Vault Simulator that the Museum of Technology had as an exhibit with Aimee quickly darting out past him, running into the stairwell railing on the wall opposite of the exit and took in deep, shaky breaths. She was holding his combat shotgun to her chest as if it were a teddy bear there to comfort her.<p>

…Yes. He said _his_ combat shotgun.

While walking through the Vault Simulator, his employer was a walking wreck. She'd cringe at the slightest noises, growl at any automated voice that blasted over the intercom to talk about the best features the Vaults had to offer, and she'd scurry away when a light flicked on through one of the windows- showing its luxurious insides of cushy seats and rusted tables. She almost tripped over the skeleton of a janitor that lay in the middle of the floor as she tried to "escape."

Once they got to the end of the exhibit, a voice flicked on and said something about an "Eye-On-You" camera that was riddled throughout the Vault. It supposedly could help the Overseer make sure no one was misbehaving, and so a vault dweller would "never feel alone again". _That's_ when he lost his shotgun. She grabbed it from his hands and began shooting around blindly at the ceiling, vaguely aiming for the hidden pieces of Old World technology before darting away from him.

He had to admit, walking through that simulator again was extremely peculiar. He hadn't stepped foot into the Museum of Technology for… Well, since the bombs fell- that was 200 years ago. He remembered how clean it was… Floors shining without a single scuff mark and the whole place smelled of cleaning agent with a hint of lemon. Lights beamed through windowsills, showing baby cradles and dream kitchens… **Her** face lit up just as much as those little demonstrative rooms did. He saw the look **she** flashed him when **she** saw the cradle.

Charon shook his head slightly, closing his eyes for a moment. God, he was thinking about **her** _a lot_ lately… _It's just the atmosphere,_ he told himself. _The last place we visited before __**she**__ got sick._

Aimee's heavy pants snapped him back to what was going on. He looked up to see her still holding onto the railing of the stairs and his combat shotgun, and she slowly gazed up to him with an awkward smile.

"S- Sorry…" She murmured, handing him back his weapon with a shaky hand. "I just…" She ducked her face away, voice barely above a horse whisper. "…Bad memories."

Charon supposed that they wouldn't be scavenging through any Vaults any time soon, if _at all._ He wondered what kind of memories came up in that little head of hers just by walking through a Vault simulator… Probably something about the day she left to find James, and he realized he didn't exactly know the full story of how she escaped as well… Not like he had the right to ask, since he never spoke a word of his own past.

He looked down the stairwell, recalling the laughter of children and pattering feet that were at the bottom in the exhibit. Damn his memory- it was almost like it was happening again, like he was actually _here_ with **her.** He had to remind himself that he wasn't, that it was 200 years after the fact, and he looked to Aimee as the physical reminder of that.

"If I remember correctly," He found himself saying as he made his way down the stairs with lead-heavy feet and his combat shotgun at his side. "The Lunar Lander exhibit should be at the bottom." Why was he going down there? Couldn't he have said that he'd wait at the top of the stairs as a lookout, since it was the highest point of the room?

Why was he _wanting_ to go back down there and experience it all again?

"If you remember correctly?..." Aimee muttered with confusion, catching his choice of words, and he was slightly thankful that she _didn't _catch how rigid his body went under his armor when he realized his own foul-up.

_Fuck…_ His mind murmured bitterly. He hadn't meant to voice his thoughts!

Her grey eyes suddenly went wide in realization, and she flew down the stairs after him. "What do you mean _if you remember correctly?" _Her brows furrowed together._ "_Charon… Have you been here before?"

Charon didn't answer, he continued going down the steps till he came to a little landing that led to another short staircase and out onto a large floor, the centerpiece being the Virgo II Lunar Lander. The grimy walls were lined with old computers that held information about space, along with dingy black and white pictures and deteriorated canvas paintings of planets and other well-known space attractions- like Mars. Off to one of the farther corners, the wall had crumbled and was an avalanche of debris and jutting rebar.

Aimee was at his side in seconds, almost tripping on the last step due to her haste to catch up when she caught herself and looked out across the floor, eyes widening even more when she saw the Lander and stared back at him. His memory _hadn't_ failed him in the slightest, and now Aimee was getting suspicious.

"I knew it! You were here before the war, weren't you?" She exclaimed, motioning a hand to the exhibit. "That's how you knew!"

The ghoul could have simply stated that she had a wild imagination. He could have _easily enough_ said that her accusations were flawed, and that he could have been here with an employer once before. He could have easily told her to drop it. But instead, he kept his vision straight forward and traveled down the steps, feeling as if eyes were burrowing into his back- eyes that _weren't_ Aimee's.

His employer was at his side again, opening her mouth to say something, probably to prod about his elusive past, when her eyes caught something that glinted. She looked up, finding Three Dog's dish perched at the _very_ top of the Virgo II Lunar Lander.

"There's the dish!" She called, scurrying towards the tall Lander to gaze up at it with her hands on her hips in amazement.

"_Excuse me, sir!_" A little boy with a bright red baseball cap exclaimed politely as he brushed past Charon towards his father across the exhibit floor. The father smiled, nodding to the ghoul in apology for his son's behavior before turning back to the painting he was examining.

Charon looked around the wide room before him- more children dotted the floor, boys and girls of all ages staring up at mystifying paintings and portraits of vibrant space images, and their laughter rebounded in his ears. He saw couples, young and old, holding hands as they roamed through the exhibit, but most eyes were trained on the Lunar Lander.

Then, things began to change. It was like the ground was beginning to tremble under him, threatening to crumble down. The debris that littered the floor seemed to return to their natural place, no longer avalanches of rubble, but smooth marble walls. The pictures began to glow in all of their former glory- bright reds of Mars, luminous moons and other planets… The tiled floor and pillars shone brightly as if they had recently been cleaned, when out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a lone woman- standing at the base of the Lander.

She was faced away from him so all he saw was her slender backside. Her head was tilted up so her eyes could reach the peak of the Lander, and she clamped a hand down on the back of her bleached sunhat to hold it in place. She was wearing a flowing, pastel blue dress that reached below her knees with a transparent, silk over layer and a white knitted shawl was draped over her shoulders. Her pin-straight strawberry blonde hair reached her lower back, and her skin was the color of velvet cream.

"_Arin, isn't this exhibit __**magnificent?**_" The woman asked in a melodious voice, not even looking back at him.

Charon blinked in disbelief, only daring to take a few slow steps towards her with his hand rising up almost longingly.

It was **her…**

"_Wouldn't it be wonderful to be on the Moon? What if we could fly there? Would you go with me, Arin?_" She asked, still not looking back at him.

"R- Rose?…" He murmured hoarsely, his large hand encasing her bony shoulder.

The woman's head turned up over her shoulder, hair lashing out at him before the room around him shattered, crumbling to his feet in the disarray it was when they had entered. _**She**_shattered before him. **Her** long blonde hair went short and darkened to chocolate brown curls, **her **flowing dress reverted into an armored chest plate with tattered off-white shorts and stockings tied up to garters, **her** white knitted shawl morphed into a dingy pack on her back.

Then, all he saw was Aimee's face and her wide and confused neutral colored eyes.

He was-… He had _imagined_ all of that?

Charon yanked his hand back, stepping away from her as if she had lashed out at him, and he was _twice_ as confused as if she had.

Some vivid imagination _he _had… No, it wasn't imagination. All that had happened, but that was 200 years ago, when he was last here with **her…**

When he was last here with **Rose…**

"Charon?" Aimee asked worriedly, cocking her head to the side and stepped towards him with her hand outstretched. "Are you alright?..." She asked quietly.

She was quite surprised when she saw him shy away from her comforting gesture with such a hurt and confused look in his intense eyes. Had she done something wrong?... No, she couldn't have. She was just standing there when he grabbed onto her shoulder and called her Rose! The look he had in his eyes then- it was like he was someplace else with some_one_ else.

"I- I am fine…" He murmured quietly, eyes darting away to stare at a painting on the wall.

Aimee, of course, didn't believe that. Her full lips pursed together into a tight line of worry.

"I don't think you are…" She replied softly. "You just called me Rose."

He tensed up in his armor, the muscle in his neck twitching like crazy, and she knew it was time to change the subject. She turned back to the Lander, dropping her pack onto the floor with her hands on her hips in a proud stance.

"I'm going to climb this thing," She finally decided, and the look in Charon's eyes lingered like a shadow in her mind.

Aimee jumped up with a quiet grunt, latching onto a metal piece that jut out and hoisted herself up till she could grab onto another piece and dug her foot into the previous part she had. She continued like this, scaling the side of the Lander till she was two-thirds to the top. From where she was, she looked down at Charon, who seemed to be (somewhat) back to his normal grumpy old self. He held his combat shotgun casually, eyes darting around like a hawk to make sure there were no nearby threats of Super Mutants. She doubted there was, they cleared the entire place out, but Charon was a lot more perceptive than she was and she knew better than to try and relieve him of his bodyguard instincts.

She gave a gentle sigh and continued till she was at the peak, smiling at the dish.

"Hello there! Well, aren't _you_ a bitch to find?" She asked, pulling out a utility knife from a chain she had on one of her belt loops and pulled out the knife attachment, using it as a makeshift screwdriver to unscrew it from the Lander. She looked around as she worked, noticing how high up she was.

In hopes to cheer Charon up a little, she held a hand to her brow and gazed around as if she were looking for some place far off.

"Hey! I think I can see our house from up here!" She exclaimed, looking down at him with a broad grin.

"How's the weather up there?" He asked without even a crack of a smirk, and he looked up at her.

She knew the game he was playing.

"Hey! Was that another attempt at a joke about my height?" She exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger down at him.

"Possibly," He shrugged.

"You aren't one to talk! You're a _giant!_"

"Compared to you, I am." He replied with a slight shrug. "But, if I may be truthful, _many_ things are big compared to you."

She smiled with challenge. "Well… In all honesty, it's kinda scary up here! We midgets like to be close to the ground, 'ya know!"

Aimee heard a raspy snort of a chuckle from down below.

"Oh my God!" She exclaimed with eyes snapping wide open, her smile faded to an 'O' of surprise, and she pointed down at him again. "You _totally_ laughed! I heard that! Don't even _bother _hiding it!"

"Hurry up and get down here before you hurt yourself." He replied plainly.

"_Fiiine,_" She whined, returning to removing the dish from its perch. "Ruin my fun…"

"I certainly will." He replied indifferently, making one last sweep with his eyes before looking up at Aimee to watch her attempt to scale back down with the dish under her arm.

But she was only a fourth of the way down when she lost her footing trying to reach a piece that was too far down for her and she slipped, falling back from the Lander with the dish clutched to her chest as if it would somehow save her from the long way down.

"_**Charon!**_" She shrieked out, screwing her eyes tightly shut.

The ghoul quickly reacted and dropped his shotgun, sprinting forward with arms outstretched to catch her. She fell into his arms and his legs were knocked out from under him from the brute force. Charon landed on his back with Aimee rolled out into a straddle on his stomach, her knees on each side of his hips with her laying on his chest. She sat up, the dish still hugged tightly to her chest and she looked down at him with an awkward smile drawn on her face.

"S- Sorry… The- er, sun was in my eyes?" She spoke nervously.

"Mistress?"

"Yes?" Her smile turned innocent, and she batted her eyelashes sweetly at him.

"…Please get off me."

"O- Oh!" She turned beet red and quickly jumped off him with one of her arms clutching the dish at her side, outstretching her other hand to him to help him up from the floor. He got to his feet with her help (more or less, she was having difficulty yanking him up), not even bothering to dust himself off, and he glanced down at his employer to see her holding his shotgun out to him.

"Here…" Aimee murmured, smiling just as softly as she spoke. "Sorry about that- again."

Charon grunted in exception of the apology as Aimee skittered away and grabbed their belongings, handing his bag to him and shouldering her own.

"Let's get out of here." She nodded to the staircase they came from, hooking a thumb over her shoulder.

He was slightly shocked by the fact that she wasn't poking at him about how he knew the location of the exhibit any longer. He was shocked that she wasn't relentlessly asking about why he called her Rose, and questioning who Rose was, and he was _certainly_ shocked that she seemed to be… Apologizing. Even going as far as showing him sympathy.

It was like she understood- that maybe he missed someone…

Well, _of course_ she understood. She was on some Capital Wasteland mad-scramble marathon trying to find her missing father. If that wasn't understanding, he didn't know what was.

"As you wish, mistress." Charon answered with a nod of his head and followed behind her.

The two walked up the exit staircase with Aimee, of course, tripping over one or two steps due to the fact that she was distracted by some of the other exhibits that caught her eye. She was curious, and they finally stopped for a moment so she could admire everything without tripping or falling over her own two feet. After she was finished, they continued walking till they found the front doors that lead out to the mall and she stopped him.

"We can't just walk out there, Super Mutants are going to hand our asses over to us…" She sighed, running her fingers through her hair and stopped momentarily to look at him. "Okay, maybe not _you,_ because you're hell on wheels and Super Mutants don't usually bother ghouls unless provoked, but they're gonna kill _me._"

"What do you suggest, mistress?" He asked with a slightly amused cock of his head.

"Erm… I dunno." She scratched her hair, ruffling her curls slightly. "How about I run like a dumbass across the Mall and to the Washington Monument?" She smiled.

"Or," He sighed gently. "You could use a Stealth-Boy."

"But, I left them at home…" She murmured with a furrow of her brows.

Before they left, Moira had given them quite a stash of Stealth Boys, stating that it was a small gift for their travels. Aimee left them at home, believing that they didn't need it and that they'd just take up more space and weight in their packs.

"I placed several in my bag before we left Megaton," He replied, swinging his pack from his back and opened one of the pockets, hand diving in and retrieving two of the little devices to show her.

"Char-bear!" She exclaimed with a wide smile, grabbing one to fiddle with the display. "God damn, you're _amazing!_" She looked up at him. "I'm going to get you something nice when we get home."

Aimee quickly turned the Stealth Boy on, turning into a shimmer of light before Charon's eyes and he could see her step forward with an outstretched glimmer, and he felt something warm tug on a pocket in his leather pants armor before something bulky was slipped in. The shimmer faded and it was Aimee holding onto the cloth of his pocket. She grabbed the other one and turned it on as well, and out of habit, attached it to her Pip-Boy for easy access and use.

Her curvaceous shimmering form turned to the door before looking back at him momentarily, hugging the dish securely to her chest.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be, mistress."

Aimee shoved the double doors open, letting the cold, rancid air of the Mall escape into the Museum of Technology with a wispy howl as she bolted out with dingy, abandoned sheets of Old World newspapers dancing around her feet. Charon sprinted out after her, boots pounding down on the fluttering newspapers to pin them to the ground as they dashed into the heart of the Mall.


	26. CHP 26: These Things I'll Never Say

"Shoot! Run like _hell_ and shoot!" Aimee exclaimed over her shoulder as the two bolted across the plaza like a couple of invisible mad men (or ghoul and woman, rather). She still had the dish clutched to her chest as she sprinted, Charon followed only a yard behind her, twisting back to shoot at the small Super Mutant horde that followed them. A horde of Super Mutants consisted of _at least_ five of the damn things. They were fortunate that the Mutant's were only wielding hunting rifles and sledgehammers or nail boards- if they ran into one that was using a missile launcher or a minigun?...

Neither wanted to think about it.

Charon caught up to Aimee's frantic sprint, and she watched him move- dancing about the battlefield like an elegant butterfly and handing deliverance to his prey. He looked forward, reloading his shotgun as he ran. He turned back and shot repeatedly, watching the Mutants fall forward, dead and mutilated. Only one followed now, swinging or shooting blindly. The Stealth Boys _did_ give them _some _advantage.

But as he looked forward to reload his shotgun again, a Mutant picked up a piece of rubble and whipped it at Charon, connecting with the back of his head. He hitched forward in a tumble, dropping his combat shotgun in the process, and his roll was halted when he was slammed into a fallen pillar that lay across his path. He sat up, vision blurry with a high-pitched ringing in his ears- it was like he had a horrible hangover and someone was grating metal upon metal or dragging their nails down a chalkboard mercilessly.

In his foggy vision, he saw a Super Mutant tower over him with the afternoon sun filtering over the cranny of its thick neck and broad shoulder.

"You _die_ now!" It bellowed, swinging its sledgehammer high above its head.

But then, the sun was eased away as a glittering figure darted between the two with its feet spread apart in a bracing stance. The Lander dish clattered to the dirt at his side. His vision returned to normal momentarily and he saw the Stealth Boy's veil disperse, immediately recognizing Aimee as the figure standing in front of him.

"Mistress!" He exclaimed, his own invisible veil disappearing as well.

Charon watched as she pulled out Patience as the sledgehammer swung down. She brought the flat side of Patience's blade against one of her palms, holding the handle with her other hand, and poised it high above her head to take the brunt of the downward swing.

"Tiny human!" The Mutant cried angrily. "Should not be able to block Mutant attack!"

A broad grin crawled onto her face as a crude look swirled into her beaming eyes.

"You haven't seen _anything_ from this "tiny human" yet!" She exclaimed, shoving it back and lashed out with the rusted blade.

The point of the lawn mower blade danced across the Super Mutant's chest, letting crimson droplets bubble to the surface of the wound and it growled at Aimee while stumbling back. She clamped her hand down on the motorcycle handle, igniting the blade and with a howl, thrusted Patience upward. She slid right through the Mutant's massive jugular, and created a sickening gargle of noise as she exited through the back of its head at the base of its skull. Its eyes rolled up into its sockets, and Aimee dislodged her weapon, kicking into its stomach with her boot so it fell back into a nearby trench, clapping up a cloud of dust in its wake.

Aimee allowed herself a few heavy breaths as she looked back at Charon on the ground with sweat beading on her brow.

"You- You okay?" She asked as she staggered over to him, cutting off Patience's fuel supply so the blade was no longer ignited.

"What made you think slipping a frag grenade into the armor of a Super Mutant was _ever_ a good idea?" He replied hoarsely, staring as she outstretched a hand to help him up.

"Hey! How was I _supposed_ to know that my Stealth Boy was going to bug out at that _exact _moment?" She exclaimed sourly, her face contorting into an irritated expression.

She used the term "bug out" when she sometimes received a faulty Stealth Boy. A faulty Stealth Boy's shield would waver, making the user appear and disappear for a few moments. Aimee was trying to slip a frag grenade to a Mutant as a "surprise attack" when her Stealth Boy decided to bug out, and she was spotted. That's why they were running only moments ago.

Aimee holstered Patience on her hip so she could help the ghoul get to his feet with a short grunt of effort. He seemed to be having trouble, as he wobbled slightly on his feet, and his eyes seemed unfocused and bleary- as if he were having trouble seeing.

"C'mon big guy- we still gotta job to do." She quickly looked him over. "You okay?"

He nodded slightly, trying not to enrage the throbbing wound on the back of his head from when he got nailed by the stone.

"I am fine." Charon replied as he knelt down and picked up the abandoned dish and handed it to her, retrieving his bag and his dropped shotgun.

"Onward!" She exclaimed happily, pointing towards the Washington Monument triumphantly.

Discarding their now useless Stealth Boys, the duo dashed towards the deteriorating obelisk just as another small horde of Super Mutants began to chase after them. The familiar whine of a minigun rang in their ears, and ahead Charon could see two Brotherhood of Steel warriors guarding the front gates. _Both_ were armed with miniguns, and they were aiming for the Super Mutants that were now following them. The two finally made it to the gate just as the last Mutant was killed.

"Delivery service!" Aimee called playfully, stopping to a halt in front of one soldier, trying to stifle her heavy breathing and held up the dish to show him.

"Ah, excellent- the replacement dish," He replied graciously, glancing towards Charon. "Is he… With you?"

"Yes, he is." She replied rudely, brows furrowing together in irritation. "Is my friend going to be a problem for you?"

"He is not permitted inside." The soldier shook his head. "I don't see how we need two of you to replace the dish, anyways."

"Like _hell_ he's staying out here with you assholes and a Mall full of Super Mutants!" She snarled, pointing at him with a sharp finger. "Listen you fuck-wad, you're going to let us _both _in! _Got it?_"

Charon glanced to his infuriated employer. It was difficult to take her seriously when she was angry, as she looked like a pouting three year old- lower lip jut out, cheeks puffed up and red with hell's fire dancing in her pale irises, and the fact that she couldn't come up with anything threatening for a comeback added up against her.

"Either he waits out here, or you _both_ wait out here." He replied sternly, still staring at Charon.

"I see this is how the Lone Wanderer is repaid for all her kindness and generosity?" He murmured quietly, shaking his head with disappointment and his arms folded over his chest.

He knew that if this didn't work to get them inside, _nothing_ would.

"What was that?" The second soldier asked, coming over out of curiosity.

"Charon!" Aimee exclaimed, flabbergasted, and spun around to gawk at him. "I don't use that card to get what I want!" She flailed her arms around her head, as if trying to get her point across.

"The- The _Lone Wanderer?_ You're the Lone Wanderer?" The first soldier asked dubiously.

She looked back at them, sighing with defeat.

"I give up. Maybe I should just crawl under a rock, or something…" She muttered, and only Charon heard what she said.

"Well if that's the case, then hurry up and replace that dish!" He exclaimed, turning back to a computer terminal that resided behind him and typed in the code, causing the metal doors of the stone wall structured around the base of the obelisk to grind open.

Aimee blinked in disbelief, shooting Charon an annoyed glance, and quickly scurried past the gates. He followed, not even bothering to glance at either soldier as he ran past them and into the monument. He was met by his employer standing in front of an old elevator, waiting for it to come down from the top floor. He stood next to her.

"Fucking Brotherhood of Steel…" She grumbled to herself. "No respect whatsoever… Can't believe we have to rely on _them…_ Jerkoffs…"

"Mistress?" He glanced at her as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. She jumped into the cubicle, looking back at him.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" She smiled, bouncing up and down impatiently. "Get in here!"

"Do you suppose that a 200 year old elevator would be safe? Assuming that it has had little to _no_ service over the last few centuries?" He asked with a cocked brow muscle, following her into the elevator anyways.

"Oh _c'mon _Char-bear! Where's your sense of adventure?" She asked as the elevator doors closed and slowly began to climb up.

"My sense of adventure is gone- _just like my sanity…_" He mumbled, shaking his head.

"What was that?" She asked, eyes darting up to him.

"Nothing." He replied, glancing down at her.

With a bout of awkward silence, they both stared back at the shiny double doors, away from each other.

"…Why did you come back for me?" Charon asked softly, arms folding over his chest as he leaned into the back wall. His head began to ring again- _damnit all…_ His mind could barely seethe the words!

"Why would I ever leave you behind?" Aimee answered with a gentle smile, looking up at him with her arms folding over her chest as well and she arched a playful eyebrow. "Did you think I was just going to leave you there to get torn apart by Super Mutants?"

"You had more important things at hand that needed to be done," He pointed out, still not looking at her. "I could have managed."

"No, don't do that," She scolded and shook her head, stepping towards him to place a hand on his arm. "Char-bear, we're a _team._ We go in together, we come out together. I've got your back, and you've got mine. We don't do things like this _alone._"

He glanced down at her curiously. "And why is that?"

She smiled gently. "You think being alone makes you stronger?..." She shook her head once more, as if to answer her own question. "It doesn't. I've tried, after I escaped the Vault and tried to find dad… I tried to keep it where it was just me, myself and I when Moriarty wouldn't give me information on him. I shut everyone else out…" Her eyes met his, and a sad smile had somehow dominated her face. "I shut myself away from other people… I didn't want to have anything to do with this world. I was angry and frustrated."

Charon couldn't quite see that- seeing Aimee so… Detached and unwilling to communicate with another human being. He wondered what had changed her, because from what she says and what he sees, she's nothing at all like who she was before. He had to admit, there were times she would get irritated or mad, and he also had to admit it was only directed at him once or twice (like when he tried to keep her from absorbing radiation for Moira's _ridiculous_ Survival Guide) and she'd quickly make up for it and apologize- or her anger and frustration was directed to the bigots who decided to voice their dislike for ghouls.

He suddenly wondered if he had something to do with her change of character?...

Aimee leaned her head into his arm and closed her eyes, resting for a few moments until the elevator chimed again and the doors slid open to reveal the top floor. It was a very small room, different electrical boxes with blinking lights and screens lined a far corner next to pythons of wires and cables that snaked out of a small hole in the wall. A dirty mattress with a few pillows and some disheveled blankets sat in the corner next to the elevator.

"C'mon," She spoke, stepping out groggily and walked over to the hole in the wall and put the dish down on the electrical boxes to look outside. "Oh- Oh my God…" She muttered.

"What is it, mistress?" He asked, walking out after her with the doors snapping shut behind him and his vision turning bleary once more.

"The- The view…" She answered, pulling back from the opening and turned back to him, motioning for him to come over. "Come look at this!"

Charon obeyed and dropped his pack next to the mattress, stepping over and poked his eyes through the hole. He could see over the Capital Wasteland for miles- nothing but barren landscape of brown, meeting the depressing grey horizon as the sun dipped down. Smoke flittered up in trails from the Mall below, streaking the sky, and he saw the weaves of the trenches with yellow dots stomping through them. The Capital Wasteland was a canvas of dark, depressing colors- it was nothing like what he remembered when he was up here on an "exclusive" trip with Rose… It was lush greenery far and wide, colorful ants of people scurrying about on the ground below while birds flocked to the deep blue sky, and once in a while, a vacationer's plane or government Vertibird would pretend to be a bird and flock with them. Nothing was like how he remembered… At times like this, it made him wish that his mind was growing feeble and playing tricks on him- making him believe that he knew what paradise was. It was easier to forget things like that, because pretending that living in hell and dreaming of paradise caused more pain than facing that he once lived and belonged in paradise.

"I should get to work," Aimee poked him in the side with her wrench, causing him to give an involuntary grunt of surprise. She pointed to the mattress when he looked back at her. "You look like you just took a stroll through the deepest circle of hell! Kick back and stay a while, big guy."

He nodded and staggered back to the mattress, plopping down on it and tried to keep from snarling at his ringing head, causing the room to go into a downward spiral around him. He closed his eyes to steady himself, waiting for the shrill tone in his ear canals to subside before opening them again, and he rolled his shoulders to relax himself. He thought better of not eating anything, there was a chance he wouldn't be able to hold it down in his current state of shrill noises and spinning rooms. Instead, he watched Aimee work with slightly blurry vision. He rubbed his eyes to get the unwanted affect to go away.

Aimee was practically halfway out the window so all he caught was the view of her bent over, broad hips jutting out with her slender legs weighing her down inside the monument. She stretched up a little, probably to get better reach on the dish outside so she could unbolt it, and her shirt rode up slightly to reveal the curve of her lower back and hips with her shorts riding up her thighs. He forced himself to look away, but the image still lingered in his mind.

"Almost… _Got it…_" She grunted, sighing in triumph when she retreated back into the small room with the partially destroyed dish in her hands, and she turned around to show him. "Would you _look _at this?"

The dish was chipped all around the edges and cracked along one side to the middle. It was riddled with dents, and even had a suckered hole or two in it. Three Dog had mentioned that a Super Mutant made short work of the dish, thinking that it'd be fun to shoot the "shiny thing" at the top of the Washington Monument…

Aimee shook her head and tossed it to the side uncaringly, grabbing some pliers and a screwdriver from on top of the electrical box at her side and slipped them into one of the cups of her bra for easy access. She grabbed the dish and halfway disappeared through the opening once more to put it into place. Charon continued to keep his eyes away from her, finally looking when she was finished and her tools clattered on the floor at her feet, too lazy to pick them up, obviously. She stumbled over to him, falling back on the mattress at his side and gave a deep inhale of relief, closing her eyes and leaning into his side so her head rested on his shoulder.

"We did it, Char-bear… God, that was a picnic, wasn't it?" She chuckled, looking up at him and pulled back to grab her bag. "We should get something to eat and rest up a bit."

Charon nodded, gaining an unwanted visit from his minor head wound and growled slightly, rubbing his eyes.

"Char-bear?" Aimee asked with her ears catching his noise of discomfort, laying a hand on his arm with her other small hand holding two cans of Cram as best she could. "Are you alright?" One can finally tumbled into her lap, as her hand couldn't hold both at once- they were two big.

"I am fine…" He muttered through clenched yellow teeth, trying to massage away the ringing that eased itself into his ears. _Nothing is helping…_

"Hey, what's this?" He could feel her fingers brush against the nape of his neck and he cringed away slightly, not ready for the sudden contact. It felt strange for something so smooth and soft touching the rough and damaged complexion of what remained of his skin.

"Charon!" She exclaimed, eyes widening at the blood that coated her fingertips, and they darted up at him to show him. "You're bleeding!"

"It is nothing, mistress." He replied, vision blurring slightly before turning back to normal.

Aimee shook her head, grabbing his shoulder to twist him away slightly, and her jaw dropped at the gash on the back of his head.

"What the _actual _fuck!" She cried, fingers digging into his arm. "You have a concussion and you didn't think of _telling_ me?"

His ears began to ring again, and he shrugged her off. "I am fine, I felt no need to alarm you of my injuries."

"So you _admit_ that you're hurt!" She grabbed a clean rag from her bag and some purified water, dousing the rag till it was damp and rung it out so the plump droplets fell onto her bare thighs, and she turned back to him with the outstretched rag. "Here, let me clean you up-"

He backed away into the wall, brushing her hand back. "No."

"Oh, stop acting like such a child!" She exclaimed, trying to grab at him again. "Let me help you!"

"No," He growled, dodging her advances again. "And you do not have the right of saying that to me- you are the most immature person I know."

"Charon!" She grabbed onto the front of his armor to pull him towards her. "Don't change the damn subject! You're just as childish as I am for not wanting help when you may have a concussion, and when you're _obviously_ injured!"

He reacted out of instinct and grabbed for both of her wrists, pinning them above her head with each hand as he knelt in front of her. Her legs were crooked up to her chest in front of her body, and the damp rag dropped from her hands onto the mattress at her side.

Aimee's lips pursed together, brows furrowing into a frustrated crease.

"You help me… why can't you allow me to do the same?"

"Because it does not work that way." He snarled.

"I told you that we're partners! I watch your back, and you watch mine!" She exclaimed. "Stop being such a fucking baby and let me _help _you!"

Charon saw the enraged glint in her eyes, and he couldn't help but feel that he was probably going to lose this argument. Why was he resisting so? Why didn't he just let her help him, like she wanted? Like he (more or less, he'd rather not say) needed?

He sighed quietly and slowly let go of her wrists, picking up the dropped rag to hand to her.

"…Fine." He replied softly. "We'll do it your way."

Her eyes widened as Charon spun around and sat in front of her with his legs crossed and his hands rested in his lap, back hunched slightly. She quickly scrambled to her knees and began dabbing at the wound.

"Jesus, when did _this_ happen?..." She muttered behind him, and he could hear rustling as if she were opening up one of their backpacks. "When you fell?"

He didn't answer- he didn't feel that the question was directed at him, but she was perhaps talking to herself. She did that when she worked, she claimed it helped her think.

The can of Cram Aimee held earlier along with a bottle of dirty water dropped into his lap.

"I know Stimpaks won't heal you… Radiation does." She spoke, her chin resting on his shoulder to look down at the items with her cheek brushing his. "I don't feel good about giving you irradiated water, but it'll heal you faster. So, drink up, bucko." She replied, and he could feel the edge of her lips twitch into a smile against his cheek. She disappeared back behind him to finish cleaning his wound.

As he sipped quietly and she worked just as quietly on fixing him up, he could feel the effects of his concussion alleviate themselves and gentle relief washed over him as he glanced to the opening in the wall. He was _not_ looking forward to the long walk ahead of them back to Galaxy News Radio…

"Finish eating, and we'll get to sleep." Aimee yawned behind him, craning open her box of Cram and dropped the slightly bloodied rag by her bag.

"As you wish, mistress…" He murmured, still looking out the opening into the depressing grey sky.

Charon glanced back to his employer after several moments, already finding her can of Cram empty and discarded by the edge of the bed and she was fast asleep. Her legs were sprawled out over the mattress, one hand lay across her stomach while the other rested over her closed eyes. She cooed contentedly with the sounds of sleep, her chocolate hair a ruffled nest framing her head.

He leaned into the wall, folding his arms over his chest and reluctantly closed his eyes, promptly following his mistress into slumber.


	27. CHP 27: Glowworm

Charon walked through small avalanches of debris as he weaved around corpses of slain Super Mutants only a few yards from where they were hunkered down against the Lyons Pride outside of the abandoned school almost three weeks ago. His backpack was resting on his front side- but it was called a _backpack_ for a reason, it was meant to be on his _back. _But at that moment, something else was occupying that space. Or to be more specific- some_one_ was occupying that space.

Aimee was resting on his back with her hands on his shoulders, and he held a handful of her bare porcelain thighs in each palm so he could hold her up. Her legs swayed with his movements as he walked, and her curls danced with the gentle wind, tickling the nape of his neck when she stirred sometimes.

She was a one-woman _stampede_ after they rested up at the Washington Monument. She wanted to get back to Three Dog as _soon_ as possible so she could get the information she needed on James, and at the most they only stopped once or twice to eat and for a bathroom break. She refused that they stop for the night, and Charon knew that if she didn't have the knowledge of him being built as resilient as a Deathclaw, they _would_ have stopped. The last time they rested, she looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion and her dainty feet were riddled with open and bleeding blisters. She didn't feel the need to tell him, but he supposed he deserved it for trying to keep his concussion only known to himself back at the monument. He reprimanded her, anyways, for not saying a damn thing.

Charon had demanded that he carry her, and said that it would get them back to GNR faster. She refused, stating that she didn't want to burden him and that she could handle herself. But when he pointed out that they were at least another three hour walk from GNR, she immediately clambered onto his back. He had actually lied to her- it was about another forty-five minutes from where they were at the time, but she was too disorientated to question him or do the math herself… He knew she wouldn't be able to walk much longer, and that he'd end up carrying her anyways.

It took them a week and two days to navigate through the Metro tunnels and get to the Museum of Technology. Their return trip to GNR evened out to six days, due to the fact that their stops lasted only a minute or two instead of all night.

"Ch-…Char-bear?..." Aimee stirred.

He stopped his walk momentarily to look over his shoulder at her. "Yes, mistress?"

A weary smile spread across her lips as her arms slowly snaked up, wrapping themselves around his neck in a tired embrace.

"N- Nothing… Just wanted to make sure you were still there…"

Charon walked out of the alley and was greeted by the decrepit front entrance of the abandoned school, and he quickly navigated his way through it when he came upon a pillar of broken stone in his way. Looking around, he found no way to weave around it, so he tightened his grip on Aimee's thighs and jumped over. The shift caused one of his hands to slide up so he was now cupping a handful of her firm smoothskin ass.

"Ch-Charon!" She cried with surprise, eyes screwing tightly shut and her arms tightened their grip around his neck, her sleepy legs twitching with life as she cringed into his neck. The action caused her back to arch so her breasts were pressed flat against his back with her ass grinding into his hand.

He immediately slid his rough palm down her silken thigh to where it was previously, causing her to shiver with goose bumps at the contrast of the two surfaces sliding against one another, and she forced her body to relax once more.

"I apologize, mistress." He spoke quietly, glancing at her over his shoulder to see that she had fallen back asleep with her arms still around his neck.

Charon looked back forward and continued walking. In only a few steps, he was in the plaza, and only some Brotherhood of Steel soldiers were watching- stopping what they were doing to momentarily gawk at Aimee on his back.

That's when he saw Colvin missing his helmet, having it tucked under his arm, and he smiled at the sight of his employer's face. He waved them over immediately.

With an inward sigh, the ghoul stalked towards the Knight Captain as Aimee stirred on his back once more, slurring something in her sleep.

"Aimee!" He exclaimed, stepping forward with a broad grin on his face. "I was glad to hear of your mission being a success and that you were returning!"

When the little Lone Wanderer didn't say anything, his smile disappeared, and he gave her a quick look over.

"Is she-?..." He asked with a concerned look.

"Sleeping." Charon replied pointedly, glancing over his shoulder and bounced her to get her to awaken. Her head snapped up from his shoulder, eyes dropping with exhaustion.

"_I __**told you **__not to set that Yao Guai on fire!_" She exclaimed, blinking with startled confusion and glanced around. Some of the soldiers eyed her strangely through their helmets as they walked by.

"Er…" Colvin's brows furrowed together. "What?"

"Oh," She glanced at him with a tired attempt at a smile and yawned, stretching her arms up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Hey Dalton…" She looked at Charon, resting her chin on his shoulder again and closed her eyes. "Are we at GNR already?"

He nodded. "Yes, mistress."

"I'm glad to see that you've come back safely," Colvin breathed with a gentle sigh of relief, and glanced back at a radio that rested on a nearby table. He motioned for them to come to the table while jogging back to it.

"Listen to this," He directed, fiddling with the dials until Three Dog howled over the radio, echoing off the walls of the plaza.

_"**Hell-****oooooo****, Capital Wasteland! You think you can stop ole' Three Dog? Well, guess again, 'cause you can't stop the music, baby!**"_

His swank voice was met by roars and cries of triumph from the Brotherhood of Steel soldiers that were scattered around the plaza, but it wasn't enough to bring Aimee out of her exhausted state. She yawned again with drooping eyes, and her smile deepened at Charon as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug.

_"**You must be thinkin', ****Three Dog, how do 'ya know I'm listenin' to you right now from that fancy studio o' yers out thar yonder in D.C.?**** Well, it's 'cause of Miss One-Oh-One. She's fighting the Good Fight, kiddies! This is for you, Vaultie. Hope 'ya got more "Happy Times" ahead of you.**"_

The radio began to hum the song _Happy Times_ by _Bob Crosby and the Bobcats._

"Ch- Char-bear… We did it." Aimee quietly spoke, burying her smile into his shoulder, and he could tell that she was slowly starting to wake up. "I can't believe we did it…"

"It was quite the adventure, mistress." Charon agreed, slowly lowering her down to the ground, but he stopped when her grip on his neck tightened. "Is something the matter?" He asked, straightening up.

"No," She shook her head, lifting her head to stare back at him. "Still just…" She yawned. "Just tired… Can you take me inside?" She nestled her head against his neck, closing her eyes again. "Please?..."

The please wasn't necessary- he would have done it anyways because he could see that his employer needed it, but he still enjoyed hearing the courteous remark.

"As you wish, mistress…" He murmured as he began walking towards the GNR building and swung the door open, walking inside to meet another radio blaring _Happy Times._

_**Wish on the moon,**_

_**And look for the gold in a rainbow**_

_**And you'll find-**_

_**A happy time.**_

Charon trekked up the stairs with Aimee barely weighing him down and gently kicked open the door that led up the flight of stairs to Three Dog's quarters. He took a right and went up another narrow stairwell, barely managing to squeeze his broad shoulders through, that led to a room as big as the one at the top of the Washington monument. All it had was a small mattress on a creaky box spring and a dresser missing one of its drawers. Three Dog allowed Charon and Aimee to occupy the usually empty room for the duration of their stay- but it would certainly be empty again in a day or two when they returned to Megaton.

He placed Aimee down on the edge of the bed, shrugging his backpack off from his front side and onto the floor. She stretched her arms high above her head once more, rubbing her eye with a slightly dirtied palm.

"God, I have _never_ felt so exhausted in my life…" She murmured, glancing up at him and gave a small grin, bringing one of her feet up to him, tilting her foot to point the toes of her boot at him.

"…What are you doing?" He asked, folding his arms over his chest and stared down at her.

"Can you rub my feet, Mr. Grumpy-Pants?" She asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

"No," He shook his head, turning to the corner by the dresser and took off his combat shotgun and knife to place it on top.

"_Awww,_" She whined, rolling over onto her stomach with her feet in the air, gently kicking them back and forth as her elbows pressed into the mattress, and she cradled her head in her palms with a playful pout on her face. "_Pleeeeease?_"

He sighed, whirling around to stare down at her with a less-than-pleased stare.

_**You'll hear a tune-**_

_**That lives in the heart of a bluebird.**_

_**And you'll find-**_

_**A happy time.**_

"Think of it as punishment," She added on, smiling sweetly. "For _not_ telling me about your injury back at the monument."

Good God, she was going to be the end of him!...

"Please?" She scrunched her face together so she looked so innocent, perfect button nose nuzzling the air like a curious little rabbit.

Charon gave a very soft sigh of defeat and staggered back over to the bed, plopping down next to her so she bounced up and down slightly with the fall of his weight.

"_Yay!_" She cried happily, rolling over onto her back so her legs were stretched out onto his lap, and she folded her arms behind her head, laying back with her eyes closed. "You are _definitely_ getting something nice when we get back home!"

He quietly growled at her, causing her to giggle as he unlatched all the clasps down the inner side of her combat boots, pulling one off gently before working at removing the other one. After getting them off, he let them fall to the floor to be retrieved later and began working his fingers against the base of her toes one by one, softly rolling his finger pads into her soft flesh. This was _so _not a part of their contract…

"Oh sweet Mary mother of _God!_" She exclaimed, smile deepening as she gave a blissful coo. "Charon, that feels _wonderful…_"

He grunted in reply as he worked down to her heel, squeezing and massaging, turning his employer into jelly at his touch with mewls of delight.

She was _really_ enjoying this…

"Man, too bad you're a bodyguard," She propped herself up on her elbows, staring at him with those bottomless silver eyes and she cocked her head to the side- her short chocolate curls spilling onto her shoulder. "You'd make an _amazing_ masseuse... Great talent wasted, if you ask me." She spoke playfully, shaking her head with disappointment.

"I highly doubt anyone would let me touch them, mistress." He replied impassively when his thumb accidentally pushed down into one of her fresh blisters.

"_Ouch!_" She cried out a chuckle, foot jerking back slightly from his hands. "Easy there, big guy. I bruise like a fragile peach!" She chuckled.

"I apologize, mistress." He replied as her foot rested back into his lap, and he began working on the other one.

"You should be," She chuckled, staring up at him with an interested glint in her eyes.

_**Though things may look very dark,**_

_**Your dreams are not in vain-**_

_**For when do you find the rainbow?**_

_**Only after the rain.**_

Charon stared at her from the corner of his eyes, darting back down to his work when her abandoned foot slowly came up to the curve of his jaw, toes curling and she nudged his face to look down at her.

"Char-bear, I think there isn't any sort of breach of contract if you simply call me by my first name. You're my friend! My- my _only_ friend, really…" She smiled with a slight blush of embarrassment at exposing that secret to him, but in a way- he already knew that… Who else traveled with her constantly, loyally protecting her? Who else was at her back, being her other pair of eyes and ears? Who else never left her side?...

She was suddenly sitting up so she was on her knees at his side, sitting back to cross her legs in front of her.

"Or better yet, think of a nickname for me! I have one for you, right?" She giggled. "_Char-bear!_"

As if he needed reminding…

The ghoul opened his mouth to speak, but his employer cut him off by placing a finger against his cracked lips to silence him.

"And no, _mistress_ is _not_ a nickname!" She laughed, pulling her finger away. "Come up with something creative!" She knocked on the side of his head as if it were a door. "I _know_ you've got some interesting nicknames rattling around in your noggin!"

He growled with irritation, brushing her hand away, but she continued to laugh.

_Annoying and childish __**certainly**__ comes to mind…_ He thought- but he honestly didn't know what he was going to call her. There weren't a lot of nicknames that could be brewed from her real name, Aimee, and he wasn't exactly the artsy type.

_**So wish on the moon,**_

_**And someday, it may be tomorrow,**_

_**You will suddenly hear chimes**_

_**And you'll have, your happy, happy time.**_

Aimee sat in front of him, waiting patiently with a smile on her face for an answer as the song ended from somewhere downstairs.

He could recycle one of Three Dog's nicknames… Vaultie? One-Oh-One? No, that wouldn't be right coming from him. It was meant for the disc jockey to use, and for his use _only._ It'd have to be his own idea, his own nickname for her… And that certainly didn't make it any easier.

"Well?" She began to bounce up and down on the mattress energetically, flinging her hands up into the air impatiently. "Got anything good?"

"No." He replied sourly, and shook his head.

Aimee sighed with disappointment, stretching her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Maybe I overestimated you," She jabbed playfully, arms folding over her chest.

"Maybe." He replied with a gentle shrug, getting up from the bed to pull back the covers. "You need your sleep, Aimee."

"I'm not ti-" She was cut off midsentence by an obnoxious yawn.

He raised a brow muscle at her, pulling back the blankets more to welcome her with them.

"…Fine."

Aimee crawled over the bed and dipped her feet under the held covers, snuggling down till her head rested against the pillow, her curls like a lush nest around her crown, and she closed her eyes.

"God, I feel like I just crawled out of a radiation pocket… I'm so drowsy and sore…" She murmured.

Then the inspiration hit him like a ton of bricks.

He _knew_ what he was going to call her.

Instead of saying anything, he tucked the covers back around her and walked to the top of the staircase. He looked back momentarily to see his employer already deep into her sleep when the door at the bottom of the stairs swung open. He immediately looked back down to see Three Dog.

"Hey Brickwall," He greeted- the nickname the disc jockey had adopted for the ghoul due to his stature. "Is Vaultie lying around anywhere?"

"My employer just fell asleep." He replied, making his way down the stairs to him. "What is it that you require?"

"Came to tell her about where James went," He answered, fixing his glasses on his nose. "Guess I'll come back later?"

"It would be best," Charon nodded, about to close the door when he stopped and pulled it back open to look at Three Dog. "Also, tell Knight Captain Colvin not to bother her while she is resting. She won't go back to sleep if he's around."

He furrowed his brows together. "Colvin? Oh, right- the guy that's hot for Vaultie, right?"

The ghoul tried to repress a snarl at the mention of the man's affections. "I suppose."

Three Dog nodded goodbye and turned around to leave, entering his studio. Charon closed the door and walked back up to Aimee, sitting down next to her bed on the floor with his knees hiked up so his arms could rest on them and he rested his back against the wall, looking up at her sleeping face. But then, she suddenly stirred.

"You- You called me by my first name…" She slurred. "When you said I needed to sleep…"

"I certainly did," He licked his upper lip gently, as if trying to test out what he was about to say. "Glowworm."

She smiled drowsily, eyes still closed. "Is that my new nickname?"

"It is." He nodded in affirmation, folding his arms over his chest.

She snuggled her head deep into the pillow, clutching it with one hand and her smile deepened.

"I like it a lot…"

He wasn't one for sappy words or moments unless the situation called for it, but this relationship and this situation _certainly_ did not call upon him getting soft.

"Get to sleep, Glowworm." He replied. So much for him not getting mushy...

"G'Night, Char-bear… Get some sleep too, 'kay?" One of her grey eyes opened drowsily. "You worked so hard today… I'm surprised you're not passed out already."

"I will go to sleep soon." He reassured her, and she immediately closed her eye and fell back asleep.

But he did not go to sleep anytime soon. His thoughts swam with the directions he had given Three Dog; _"Also, tell Knight Captain Colvin not to bother her while she is resting. She won't go back to sleep if he's around."_… He had requested that unprovoked, and the DJ's reaction was certainly concerning. If _he_ knew that Colvin had a crush on his employer, it was still a miracle that Aimee hadn't figured it out yet.

As the room filled with quiet sounds of Aimee gently breathing, and a once in a while gentle snore, Charon slowly began to slip into sleep a few hours later.


	28. CHP 28: A Change In Charon's Tides?

**Author's Notes: I know it's late Tuesday to hand this in for you guys x_x SORRY ABOUT THAT! I couldn't get on ALL DAY today ! Anyways, hope you guys enjoy :D And that I get some good reviews on this! ~heart~**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee opened her eyes to the sound of Charon's raspy voice, and she sat up to rub her them with an obnoxious yawn pulling the corners of her lips. The rusty bed springs groaned in agony as she shifted her weight so her legs swung over the edge of the bed, and she rubbed her swimming head.<p>

It didn't hurt- it just felt like it wasn't attached to her neck, and that someone was furiously spinning it like a top. It happened often when she had a nice, long sleep after being so exhausted. Funny thing was, she didn't know if she was more exhausted before getting to sleep- or after.

Three Dog's voice infiltrated her ears now, and she looked at the door at the bottom of the stairwell that led out to his studio. He was asking someone about a… map, or a route or something. Something about directions and navigation to a-… a city?

"We do not require the assistance of the Brotherhood of Steel." Charon spoke, just as Aimee willed herself to get up from her thin mattress and stagger to the stairs, still rubbing her spinning head. "Aimee and I can make it back to Megaton just fine."

"You sure, Brickwall? It's just you and the little Vaultie- and to be honest, I wasn't expecting her to be so tiny." Three Dog replied, sounding as if he had something in his mouth- like food or a cigarette. "If she were a candy bar, she'd be _fun-sized!_"

"I suppose your scouts have deceived you in their reports…"

Aimee blinked as she gripped the railing, and with knees threatening to buckle underneath her, she scaled down the steps at a safe pace. Jesus Christ- these blisters were _murder._ She wondered if Charon would agree to give her another foot massage… Or care her back to Megaton.

"Guess you're right…" Three Dog's voice trailed off. "No, seriously. You should get some help from the tin boy scouts. You never know what you're going to run into when you're out here."

"Super Mutants, raiders, in rarity maybe a Deathclaw… When you close in on the sewers, Mirelurks and Molerats become more frequent."

"Good golly Holly, you make it sound like a walk through the park…"

From somewhere downstairs, a door opened.

"I'd be more than happy to escort you and Aimee out of the ruins and back to Megaton along with the Lyons Pride. We are in a great to debt to you and Aimee after everything you've done." Dalton spoke. He must have been the one who entered the room.

"Aimee may not look like much to either of you, but her strong will and stubborn nature makes her resilient and capable of handling herself in dire situations." Charon answered with a slight tinge of defense in his voice.

Aimee froze with her hand hovering over the doorknob. She realized two things- one, Charon seemed to be speaking _highly_ of her, and two- he was having a _conversation_ with someone_ other_ than her! What the hell was going on?

"How long have you been traveling with her anyways, Brickwall?"

"In total…" Charon's voice halted, as if he were contemplating whether or not to actually tell the disc jockey what he wanted to know. "Almost five months- four months and nineteen days."

_I've been out here for almost seven months, now…_ She recalled sadly, brushing her hair back from her face. _I was out and about two months before finding Char-bear. God- almost a year already, and I haven't found dad yet…_ She closed her eyes. _My birthday is in almost a month…_

She recalled her father always telling her that she was born around a Pre-War holiday known as "Thanksgiving." (Which reminded her, Charon was a Pre-War ghoul, right? He'd know what Thanksgiving was!) She was born on November 18th, and she remembered leaving the Vault the second week of January. She remembered- _January 9__th__, it was a Tuesday._

Aimee's eyes widened, and she jerked her head up to stare into the grimy glass panes of the door, seeing only dark, shifting shadows of the three men. Charon was keeping _track_ of how long they have been traveling together? Or was it another one of those mandatory things he needed to know by word of his contract? She made a mental note to later ask what _else_ he knew… Just for curiosity's sake, of course.

It sounded so strange to hear Charon speaking with another person, considering how they first met in Ahzrukhal's bar. He refused to speak to her completely, and- well… Then tried choking her.

Somehow, the memory made her smile a little as she leaned her forehead against the cool glass on the door and she closed her eyes. She almost wished it was Charon she was leaning against, with his arms encasing her tiny body against his broad chest…

She snapped her eyes open in horror and confusion. What the hell was wrong with her? This was Charon she was thinking about! A good friend, her-… her _only_ friend, since she was chased out of the Vault… And he knew that all too well with how she acted so casually around him. It felt nice, finally feeling that there was someone out there that she felt she could trust and lay her heart out for. He would protect her, and she would protect him…

_Which is why I need to stop thinking about him like that!_ She scolded herself as she pulled her forehead back from the door and bit the inside of her cheek as a reminder for future reference. She outstretched her hand for the doorknob, but before she could turn it, it swung open to reveal Charon.

"Aimee," He greeted, then stepped to the side so she could enter the room. "Sleep well?"

"Ye- Yeah…" She nodded slightly with a small smile and stepped past him, waving to Dalton and Three Dog in a friendly matter. "Morning, boys."

"Morning? You've been out cold for almost two days, One-Oh-One." Three Dog scratched at the tuft of black hair on his chin, and a burning cigarette was balanced between his lips. "It's a few hours too late to be saying "Morning."

She blushed a little, looking down at her Pip-Boy to see that what he said was- indeed- true. It was 1:27 in the afternoon!

"Glad to see you're awake," Dalton smiled, shifting a metal box under his arm with slight nervousness on his face. He was wearing his bulky power armor, minus the bulky helmet. "When do you plan on leaving?"

"Whenever the big man says!" Aimee joked, clapping a hand on Charon's broad shoulder and looked up at the beast of a ghoul. "What's the good word?"

"Tell me when you are feeling up to the challenge of walking back to Megaton, and we will leave." He answered.

"I'm asking you because you're going to be _carrying_ me back!" She laughed, elbowing him in the ribs playfully.

The ghoul rumbled in his throat and looked up at the ceiling, folding his arms over his chest.

"Aw- I'm just kidding Mr. Grumpy Pants!" She pouted, glancing over to Dalton. "We won't leave till tomorrow morning- maybe another day or two, if you're lucky enough to have us for a bit longer." She teased with a grin.

Truth was- she was fired up and ready to _go!_ She wanted to get back to Megaton for a quick resupply, then carry off to find her father. Which reminded her… She still needed to talk to Three Dog about her dad's location.

"We are certainly lucky." He nodded, face blooming pink- _is he sick or something? _She thought. "But, I- uh… Wanted to give you _this…_" He stretched the metal box to her with one hand under it.

Aimee gawked at it curiously, taking it with careful hands to find that it weighed a moderate amount. It had something _good_ in it, she could tell you that!

"More medical supplies?" She asked aloud, ripping the lid off so it landed on the ground with a metallic _thunk_ and she gasped at the contents inside.

A bottle of Nuka-Cola Quantum gazed up at her, along with some scrap parts she could use to fix up Patience. She shifted the parts to the side to find a drawstring bag sticking out from underneath. Out of habit, she tossed it to Charon over her shoulder and it made a tinkling noise when it landed in his hands.

"Could you count that out, please?"

But she could already hear the sound of his hands working before she even asked.

Aimee continued to dig through the box, lips breaking out into a wide smile as she removed a book in _pristine_ condition with a lilac cover. The crisp pages were embroidered with gold trim, and in fancy cursive on the front read the title _Beauty and the Beast_. Beneath it was a picture of a woman with flowing brown curls in a fancy dress dancing with what looked like a terrifying creature that reminded her of a Deathclaw- if you shortened the claws by a significant amount, removed the horns, and took the leathery skin to replace it with shaggy brown fur.

She squealed with delight, almost dropping the box as she hugged the book to her chest.

"A _love_ story!" She cried, smile deepening as she looked up at Dalton. "This book is _beautiful, _Dalton!" She looked down at it, using her thumb to leaf through the pages. "The text is clear, it's not damaged or ruined or _anything!_ It's- oh my _God!_"

Dalton smiled from ear to ear with the pink in his face deepening to a scarlet shade.

"I'm glad that you like it… It was a God-given miracle that I found it in the ruins, but once I did, I thought of you… And-"

Before he continued, Aimee dashed over to him with another squeal of delight and planted her full lips to his cheek.

_Good God- I can barely reach him! If this was Charon I'd need a stepladder and I'm stopping that train of thought right now!_

She shook her head at the thought and pulled back from him, trying to retain the smile on her face.

"Thank you _so_ much!" She exclaimed with what felt like stars in her eyes. "It's amazing… Thank you!"

Three Dog snorted, folding his arms over his chest. "If I knew chicks enjoyed reading that much, I woulda read a few bed time stories to some of the soldier girls running around this place…"

"If you have a book in mint condition, the Brotherhood of Steel will most likely confine you to an interrogation room to ask where you got it from." Dalton spoke in a quiet voice, watching Aimee with thoughtful eyes. "Finding books in such immaculate condition is one of the Brotherhood of Steel's top priorities."

Aimee's smile disappeared and turned into a frown while her brow crinkled between her eyes.

"Then why are you giving me this book instead of giving it to Sarah or someone in the BoS?"

His smile reappeared, glowing and warm.

"Because I wanted _you_ to have it… But let's keep that between you and me, okay?" He winked at her playfully.

She nodded a little hesitantly. "O- Okay…"

She glanced back to Charon for change of subject, finding him staring at the floor with some bottle caps in one hand and the other holding the open drawstring bag. The look in his eyes suggested that the lights were on, but no one was home. His face was puckered- his expression sour.

"How much we got weighing down our pockets, Char-bear?" She asked to hopefully lure him out of his daze, stepping towards him with an outstretched hand.

He snapped his eyes up to her, as if startled.

"S- Sorry…" He murmured, glancing over at something behind her with his sour expression replaced by a grim sneer. "I lost count…"

Aimee followed his eyes to find him watching Dalton leave the room in a strange stride, almost tripping over his own feet once or twice. She giggled and hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the Knight Captain.

"He's a strange one, isn't he?"

"I've mentioned before that the Brotherhood of Steel are strange people." He answered, dropping the caps back into the bag and turned to walk up the stairs and out of her sight.

"I tried talking Brickwall into it," Three Dog piped up as he stepped towards her. She giggled at the nickname. "But he gave me the heave-ho. I could get Sarah and some of her tin men to take you outta here in one piece- it'd be a damn shame if something got to our famed Lone Wanderer. Morale's not gonna do too good without you, kid."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Let them just hang out around here, Char-bear and I don't need any help. The Lyons Pride has worked themselves into overtime, so they could use some rest." She turned to the stairs to follow Charon.

"Sure thing, kid- just don't come crying back to ole' Three Dog when the Super Mutants give you a nasty scrape!" He chuckled under his breath, walking in the opposite direction to his studio.

"I'll just get Char-bear to kiss it better!" She teased, stopping at the top to watch Charon pull out some of her clothes from the nearby dresser and place them on her bed, then put the remaining clothes into her almost empty pack. She dropped the metal box Dalton gave her next to the clothes.

"What's that for?" She asked, pointing to them with her lilac colored book clutched to her chest.

"Fresh clothes." He answered, looking up at her. "Three Dog hasn't told you where James is, yet?"

She cocked her head at him, finding it strange that he used her dad's first name instead of simply calling him "your father" like he normally did. She touched her forehead. Was she sick, or still sleeping or something?...

"Are you alright?" He asked, straightening up with a folded up shirt in his hand to look down at her.

She smiled reassuringly and nodded. "I'm fine… Just a little tired, is all."

"You should get some more sleep before we leave tonight."

Aimee put her book in the box and grabbed for her fresh clothes. "How did you know I wanted to leave so soon?"

"Because you are impatient when you are looking forward to something. You are looking forward to finding James, so I understood that you wanted to leave as soon as possible."

She brushed her hand over the fabric of her corset- coarse black material with metal plating on the inside as a makeshift bulletproof vest. She wore it under her clothing for additional protection. She wrapped it around her waist and began to lace it up on her front side, over her grey undershirt.

"So… you were talking to Three Dog?" She asked quietly, stopping to watch him work.

"Yes," He stopped as well to look back at her, hands almost elbow-deep into her pack. "Is that a problem?"

"N- No! No… Of course not!" She exclaimed with wide eyes and smiled awkwardly. "I'm glad that you're talking with other people! It's just that… Well… when we first met, you weren't exactly the friendliest company I've had. N- Not that you aren't _now-_ I like talking with you and stuff-!" She sighed with irritation over her vague words as she got the corset fitted to a comfortable snugness, then twisted it around on her torso so the lacing was along her spine.

"Ahzrukhal had requested that I did not speak with the customers, so I obeyed. You requested no such thing of me, but in your absence, I deem it necessary to take over your affairs. Three Dog spoke to me about James' whereabouts." Charon answered, giving the dresser a quick look over to make sure he got everything of hers. "I was to tell you when you had awoken, but he still had my attention by the time you came downstairs."

"He _told_ you?" Her eyes widened with surprise. "_When?_"

"A few moments before you woke up." He handed her an armored top with long sleeves and a hem that ended right below her breasts, to make up for what the corset couldn't cover. "Before he tried to convince me that we should need help by the Lyons Pride."

"You don't like them much, do you?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, tugging the armor shrug on and zipped up the side, pulling on the hem to make sure it fit snugly over her chest.

"I don't enjoy the company of the Brotherhood of Steel in general, Glowworm." He answered, dumping the contents of Dalton's gift into the mouth of her bag. He took the book he gave her and put it in a separate pocket on the front because it wouldn't fit- it was too thick.

Aimee giggled, almost forgetting the nickname he gave her and hugged his arm, resting her head on his bicep.

"So what did he tell you?"

"Put your pants on." He ordered, handing her a pair of pants made out of thick, black material.

She laughed at how dirty it sounded and snatched them from him, demanding that he turned away and quickly wriggled out of the shorts and stockings she was wearing now to pull the pants on.

"James had mentioned to Three Dog that he was meeting an old friend by the name of Dr. Li in Rivet City."

"Friend?" She stopped buttoning up her pants to look up at him with her bangs falling into her eyes. How did her dad know anyone on the outside of the Vault?

Charon nodded, beginning to pack up his own bag. "He also mentioned that James required knowledge over the events that have happened in the Capital Wasteland in the recent years. He asked that Three Dog try to remember from twenty years back, if he were able to."

Aimee froze at those words- _**twenty years**_ echoing in her mind like a vile curse. She swayed on her feet and he immediately stepped up and grabbed her arm to steady her with a questioning look in his sharp eyes.

"I- I'm turning twenty in a month, Char-bear… I was born on November 18th. My dad always told me I was born around some holiday called "Thanksgiving" that people from before the war celebrated…" She shook her head clear of the fog that settled in her mind.

"I thought that asking for a time frame of twenty years was an interesting number to ask for." He commented, removing his hand when he believed she was fine. She flopped onto the bed instead. "Do you think this somehow ties back to you?"

Aimee didn't quite know. She covered her arms over her eyes and took a deep inhale to calm herself- then a few more for good measure. She didn't know what to think about her father, or why he left or _anything_ that had to do with _him_ anymore. The more she searched for him, and the deeper in she was getting she was given more questions without answers. They all floated through her mind, and she didn't know what to do about any of them.

So she decided the best course of action was to get to Rivet City as soon as possible.

"Finish packing up," Aimee finally spoke in an indifferent tone, pulling up her pants and grabbing twine from the bed to slip through the belt loops, then tied it together on the front as a makeshift belt. The frayed ends hung against her thighs. "I'll give the soldiers a quick goodbye and we can go."

She tugged on her combat boots and brushed past him, but not before he grabbed her arm, which caused her to snap her head back to him over her shoulder as she struggled to keep balance on one foot, hopping about in place occasionally, as she tried tying up one of her boot laces.

"We will find him soon, Aimee. If that is what you are worried about." He stated, then let go of her arm to continue packing.

She smiled a little, lightly touching where he had his hand before turning away and darted down the steps while braiding her short hair into two stubby pigtails.

Only an hour later did Aimee _finally_ finish speaking with the soldiers, gave each member of the Lyons Pride a long goodbye and Three Dog an appreciative hug before returning to Charon. She apologized to him for taking so long, grabbed her bag, and motioned that they could leave.

With Patience on her hip, she trotted out of the Galaxy News Radio building and out into the open evening air, glancing back to Charon with a smile on her face.

His grumbling expression reminded her…

"Hey, Char-bear?" He looked at her once he was at her side, and they began walking. "What's Thanksgiving?"


	29. CHP 29: Make Me Understand

**A/N: HEY ALL!**

**OMGGG I FORGOT TO POST THIS CHAPTER YESTERDAY, AND IT'S THE MOST IMPORTANT CHAPTER IN THE SERIES TO DATE! -arm flail, runs around in circles like a dumbass-**

**-collects myself, clears my throat- ANYWHOOOO...**

**Wow, 29 Chapters just for the famed first kiss we've all been waiting for, neh? Well, it's Aimee's first, and Charon hasn't been touched by ANYONE (man OR woman) since his ghoulification, so you have to expect that things don't go well... ESPECIALLY with the reason why Aimee kisses the big lug! xD GOD I'M EVIL!**

**You'd think that the moment Charon is touched by Aimee he'd go into an orgasm by tenfold or something... (I heard somewhere that sometimes, guys who don't have sex for a few months to a year pretty much explode in their pants the moment a girl so much as touches them, LMFAO! Sorry guys for exploiting you :3)**

**Anyways, happy reading, happy writing! Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated here!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee knelt down in front of a janitor's closet deep in the belly of the school on the outskirts of Springvale with a bent bobby pin between her fingers and Charlie, her combat knife, in the other- used to apply the torque to get the damn door open. The door was flimsy, she could easily enough have Charon ram through it or something, <em>but…<em>

She glanced at the rock-solid ghoul standing behind her with his shotgun held in both hands. He was shamelessly staring back at her with narrowed eyes, and she swallowed quietly before turning back to the lock that she was working on.

…_But_ he hadn't said two words to her since they left Galaxy News Radio. Was he irked by something she did, or said? Was it about her asking what Thanksgiving was?...

When she asked, his face twisted up into a sour expression- mostly shown through his icy blue eyes- and he growled at her instead of answering. Then they hadn't talked much since.

_He's probably mad 'cause I keep bothering him about his past…_ She thought to herself, a little guiltily. _I'm __**definitely**__ getting him something nice when we get home._

The only reason why they weren't home right now was because she wanted to stop at the school for a moment to comb it over- search for more scrap parts and any other valuable things they could use to sell for extra spending money before going on their travels to Rivet City. They killed a few raiders, stomped on a few Radroaches- same old, same old. Even _then_ he didn't say anything to her.

Well, maybe a word or two… Like "move", or "behind you", or simply "raider".

…Yeah, his intentions were quite vague. She didn't know he could get upset to the point where he was going to give her the silent treatment. She didn't know, either, if this was the tactic of someone who was _severely _pissed off, or a tactic of a five year old child who would do so when they didn't get what they wanted. Either way, his reaction- for whatever reason it was that he was acting this way- troubled her deeply. The only reason why she didn't bother to ask was because she was sure he wouldn't give her a truthful answer, if an answer at all.

The janitor's closet door swung open, snapping her back to the work at hand and she straightened up, grinning back at the ghoul at an attempt to make him talk.

"Aimee's got the _magic_ touch!" She cried arrogantly, wriggling her fingers at him.

"Indeed," Charon mused, glancing over her shoulder into the small closet.

"Oh my God! It's a miracle!" She flung her hands up into the air with praise. "He speaks! Well, it's still only one word... But whatever!" She grinned at him smugly.

His intense blue eyes darted back down at her, narrowing once more.

"…Never mind." She sighed, smile disappearing, and she turned back to the closet to find the shelves lined with miscellaneous items- _useful_ items.

"Jack pot!" She exclaimed, dashing in to be halted by a short, metal step ladder. "…Oh, _this_ is great. Another way the world can _mock me_ for being so damned short!" She cried, stomping a foot down childishly before clambering up it.

Charon remained in the hall, watching in case they missed a Raider and it was coming back to attempt to kill them when a hollow thump resounded in his ears. He glanced back at Aimee, eyes trailing down to the floor to find that the book Colvin had given her had fallen out of an unzipped pocket of her bag. He picked it up and handed it back to her, nudging her shoulder with it to get her attention.

"Th- Thanks…" She murmured, grabbing it and placing it on the shelf to put it in her bag when she needed it. She pulled her pack off her back and opened it, picking items off shelves to judge whether or not they were worth salvaging before tossing them into her bag when a gravelly voice called behind her.

"He seems to be fond of you," Charon spoke. His voice sounded slightly absentminded, as if he hadn't meant to say what he was thinking.

"Who is?" Aimee asked, looking back at him to find that he was staring at the book- _the gift-_ Dalton had given her before they left GNR. She snorted with amusement. "I don't mean to blow my own horn, but I'm the famed _Lone Wanderer_, Char-bear. _Everyone's_ fond of me." She turned back to the junk she was collecting.

"Him more so than others," He replied honestly.

"Wow. _Days_ of not speaking to me, and _this_ is the topic of conversation you choose as an icebreaker?" Her eyes sharply darted to him, not liking the feeling welling up in her gut. "What gives?"

"You haven't noticed." He stated more than asked.

"Noticed _what?_" She asked exasperatedly.

"That kiss?"

"Kiss?" She furrowed her brows together, trying to recall when she _ever_ kissed Dalton. "Oh! You mean when I thanked him?"

His eyes seemed to darken unhappily. "…Yes."

"What about it? I wanted to _thank him_, so I did."

"Did you ever think that maybe that kiss meant more to him than what was intended by you, Aimee?"

"Like what?" She went up another step on the ladder so she could come to eye level with him.

"You are honestly not aware of his affections for you?" He snapped.

Her jaw dropped slightly. Dalton? _**Liking **__her?_ She highly doubted it, the guy could pass as her father or something… He certainly had the age to pass as a father! She had to remind herself that Charon was a _lot_ more perceptive than she was either way- but then again, she _also_ had to remind herself that even the most perceptive people could be wrong, or have misinterpretations of a situation.

Why was the topic of conversation getting him all bent out of shape _anyways?_

"It- It's not a big deal!" Aimee sputtered, turning back to shoving her bag full of junk parts furiously.

"So you _didn't_ notice," Charon growled.

She spun back around, huffing with her growing irritation. "Maybe I did and I just didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him to take a hike!" She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, as if trying to prove her point.

"That is unlike you. You simply would have told him that you could not return his feelings instead of stringing him along." He replied as if it were the simplest answer in the world- with that _smug _tone of victory.

Her anger flared like an enraged star, caving into itself to create a black hole in the core of her being.

"_Stringing him along?_" She yelled, pointing a finger at him. "How _dare_ you think that was my intention!"

"I did not mean it that way, and you know it." He replied indifferently, arms folding over his chest.

"You think that you're such a people person? You think that you can read me like an open book without even opening _yourself_ up to me?" The words were tumbling out faster than she could stop them, and before she knew it, she was throwing her bag at him angrily. "Well you're _not! _Stop acting like you know everything! Stop acting like you know _me!_"

Her bag hit him square in the chest, tumbling to land at his feet with the contents spilling out to skitter across the floor. He glowered at her, growling like a mad dog.

"I know you better than most, Aimee." He answered casually with the muscle in his neck twitching- he _knew_ he pissed her off. He collected her things and put them back into her bag before picking it up from the floor and handing it back to her, eyes boring deep into hers. "You said so yourself."

Aimee immediately softened at his words, only staring back at him with disbelief- _and guilt-_ in the things she yelled at him. She knew he was a rash man, he could have easily smacked her around for yelling at him in such a manner (although his contract held him back from doing so). There was truth in what he said… She had no one else to turn to out in the Wasteland, her father being an exception because he was still currently missing.

Charon knew her better than anyone else, but wasn't that a given? They slept together, traveled together, ate together, fought together… But now, they were fighting _one another._ Why had she lashed out at him like that? Why, when he was only trying to protect her?

Wait-... _Was_ he trying to protect her? From what? _Dalton?_ She couldn't say if the thought was true or not- it made _no __**sense! **_Even for_ Charon_ it didn't make any damn _sense!_

_Would Dalton do that?_ She tensed, eyes drifting down to her bag, outstretched by his hand. _Would Dalton protect me? Listen to my stupid jokes, listen to me cry about my father?... Would he stay no matter what? Because he __**wanted**__ to, not because of those stupid duties the BoS have?_

Aimee knew the answer to those questions. _No. No, no, no… and probably, no- even if he __**did**__ like me, men will only go so far._ Only Charon would do any of those things- yet here was this Knight Captain, toddling after her like a lovesick puppy, throwing her gifts and she rewards him with a kiss (even if it _was_ only on the cheek). What had she given Charon after months of traveling for protecting and ultimately rescuing, on _many_ occasions, her sorry hide? There was a box of shells here or there as thanks, but did that really amount to what she had given Dalton by the way he was acting? Was he _mad_ that he wasn't getting the sort of payment that Dalton was?

She never took Charon as that sort of guy, but damn, she was horrible either way… For saying those things, for snapping at him, for denying him something that she should have done so long ago. She should have given her thanks.

Aimee took her bag from his hands, placing it on the shelf next to her book and turned back to him.

"I- I'm sorry, Charon…" She murmured apologetically, and she caught the unexpected twitch in his neck. "You're right. I _should_ have known. But _you_ should know that I'm pretty fucking _oblivious_ to a lot that goes on around me! I'm not that perceptive, it's a given, which is why-…" She gave a gentle sigh of nervousness, latching a quivering hand onto the front of his armor to pull him close, eyes lingering in his as she whispered; "Which is why I'm so thankful to have you around to protect me…"

"Ai- Aimee," Charon stuttered, and seeing him so flustered was almost enough to make her smile and laugh. "What are you-?"

She smiled- Charon had called her by her first name.

"Giving my thanks to the right person," She replied honestly, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. "_You._"

She leaned up from the ladder so she was eye level with him and she could feel his breath spreading over her lips (her earlier thoughts were right, she _would_ need a stepladder in order to do what she was about to do- _oh the irony…_). She dug her nails into the front of his armor to make sure he couldn't get away. She closed her eyes the moment the plump, pink flesh of her lips connected with the ravaged skin on his own lips, and the moment she felt him- all her tense muscles of nervousness melted away and she released an even breath.

The only thing that bothered her was that he wasn't moving _at all_. It was like trying to kiss a mannequin. She wanted to do something to coax him into _at least_ returning the kiss- she wanted to do something that would forever remind her that she was kissing _him._ She was kissing _Charon._

The thought hit her like a ton of bricks in an instant.

Oh _God,_ she was kissing Charon!

…Oh God.

What was stranger still was that it felt so… Right? Justified? _Not_ weird? Whatever it was, she sorta liked it, and she wanted more. She wanted _him_ to do something more than just stand there like an idiot.

Aimee decided to do just that- encourage him to do more than just stand there, and slithered her hands up from the front of his armor and wrapped them around his neck in an effort to deepen the kiss. But she only met the action halfway, because a growl resonating from his throat caused her to freeze.

_What is he going to do?_ Her heart began to pound in her chest.

She cried out with surprise when his hands suddenly darted up from his sides and grabbed onto each of her wrists, prying them from his shoulders and he pulled her back by them, glaring down at her as she stumbled off the ladder onto unsteady feet in front of him. He was _glaring!_ He looked like a wild dog; lips parted and bared back to reveal rows of yellow teeth as he snarled at her. A mixed expression lanced the missing features of his face- and was that…_ Frustration_ and _confusion_ she saw in his eyes?

"_Don't._" He barked, still holding onto her wrists.

"D- Don't what?" She squeaked with slight confusion. Wasn't this what he wanted? Wasn't this what he was getting all bent out of shape for?

"Don't do- do _that._" He finally let her go, stepping back to create distance between them. "You don't understand."

"Understand?" She furrowed her brows together. "Understand _what?_" Didn't he _want_ payment for his services?

"_Don't_ _do it again._" Charon warned seethingly once more, turned on his heel, and stomped off.

…Holy shit. Holy _shit-_ had she misunderstood him?

Aimee looked at the book from the corner of her eyes, finding something oddly different about it. She picked it up with a shaking hand and looked at the picture of the woman dancing with the furry monster on the front, but her eyes widened at what she saw. Instead of the woman with long hair, it was _her- _and instead of the hairy beast, it was _Charon_ dressed in formal attire. She was dancing with Charon!

"Ch- Charon! Wait!" She begged, grabbing her bag and shoved her book into it before taking off after him down the staircase. "Charon _stop!_"

What had she _done?_

She turned the corner of the stairs and immediately slammed into a solid wall of ghoul, stumbling back from the force of impact. His hand lashed out, grabbing onto her wrist to pull her back to him. Once she was on her feet, he ran his hands up till they latched onto her biceps, almost hoisting her off the ground- forcing her to stare into the clusterfuck of emotions that clouded his prodding eyes.

"You don't understand…" He muttered, a little softer in tone and emotion as he slowly set her down onto her feet.

"_What_ don't I understand?" She asked, getting slightly irritated by this cat and mouse game he seemed to be playing. Seriously- what the _fuck_ did he _want_ from her?

"That-… That _this_ should be done between two people in love." He replied a little reluctantly, finally letting her arms go and he stepped back once again.

Aimee saw it flash into his eyes- only for a brief moment, but she recognized it well. She saw it when they were back in the Museum of Technology, when he had clamped a heavy hand down onto her shoulder and called her Rose… He looked so confused and hurt then, and he looked just as confused and hurt now, if not more.

"You- You think that's what this is about?" She replied softly. "Charon, I was only trying to-"

She was abruptly cut off by the ghoul spinning around and walking to the next flight of stairs, leaving her to stew in her own silent words. He was grumbling something to himself, something that only _he _could hear. And she was fine with that as she flew down after him again.

"Charon, wait damn you! You can't keep cutting me off!" She cried as she ran. "I thought this was what you wanted!"

Charon stopped at the bottom of the staircase, turning around slightly to look back at her. That frustrated look was back in his expression with his eyes narrowed significantly. She stopped a few steps above where he stood so she came to eye level with him once more, and she was trying to calm her heavy panting.

"What I wanted?" He questioned.

"I- I thought that you- _wanted_ payment or something, for protecting me…" She ducked her blushing face away. "I thought you wanted me to-…" Her voice trailed off, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth as it dried up and turned cottony.

"Mi- _Aimee,_" Charon quickly corrected himself, and Aimee's eyes darted back up to him- she was hoping that their friendship was still salvageable. "I-… You-…" It seemed like he couldn't find the words either.

"_Make me_ understand, Charon." She finally spoke pleadingly. "I'm a fast learner. You know that better than anyone- you said so yourself!"

His brow muscles slowly began to furrow together angrily- it wasn't all water under the bridge yet.

"It seems to me that you don't understand how utterly misguided you are, mistress," He spat acidly, turning away from her. Simply hearing that he so quickly went back to using the formal title was like someone was using her heart as a punching bag. "And you've made it clear that some aspects of my contract are still quite vague to you."

"Wha- what do you mean?"

"As your bodyguard, I do not receive payment of any sort. I work for you, and only you, loyally and unquestioningly till someone else gains possession of my contract." He dead panned, walking away from her.

"Then why the _hell_ were you getting all weird because I thanked Dalton?" Aimee yelled, causing him to stop and look back at her.

"It's not because you thanked him," He answered honestly. "It's the _way_ that you thanked him."

Her eyes widened as her lower jaw popped open. "The- The way I-?"

"_Forget it._" He shook his head disapprovingly, shouldering his shotgun as he casually went down the next flight of stairs at his side.

Aimee froze where she stood, trembling as if someone had doused her with a bucket of freezing cold ice water. His words floated through her head- _"Forget it."_- and her mind spoke back to him, as if they were actually continuing the conversation and he hadn't just left like he did.

_If only it were that simple, Charon…_ _If only it were as simple as forgetting. _She thought sadly, pulling her book out of her bag to gaze at the picture on the cover once more. It was no longer her and Charon dancing, but it was the same woman and furry beast.

_Were you hurt in your own love story, too?_ She wondered, brushing her fingertips over the woman's smiling face.

Shouldering her own pack and unhurriedly made her way to the bottom of the stairs, they walked out quietly, making their way back to Megaton without saying one word to each other. But once they went inside the giant metal structure and staggered to their shared dwellings, they finally glanced at each other with foreign looks, and they believed they knew what the other was thinking.

Things wouldn't be the same anymore.


	30. CHP 30: In The Middle Of The Night

It had been almost a week- exactly five days- since Aimee and Charon returned to Megaton. She spent the time helping out with repairs around the town, completing a few errands for the residents she knew well enough to trust, and would sometimes run an oddball job for Moira and her Survival Guide. Then she'd return home and clean a bit, make dinner for her and Charon, and so on. She was extremely worried that she had just burned down the last bridge she had that extended towards her bodyguard- how could she have been so _wrong_ about what he wanted?

Quite frankly, she _still_ didn't understand why he had gotten so upset over the whole thing. They would still talk, of course, but things had still been nothing but rocky territory for the two now. She didn't know what else to do but do whatever she could to silently apologize and hope that he'd, one day, accept it.

Aimee wanted more than anything for things to get back to normal- if what they had before was normal in the first place. She had ordered something from Moira the day they got back, asking that her order be delivered as soon as possible, but because it was so specific (and almost next to _impossible_ to completely fulfill or even find) it would take some time, if she got what she requested _at __**all**__._ It would be the present that she had promised that she'd get for him. Well, she didn't promise per say, but she hoped it might mend things slightly.

Aimee looked across the small fold-out table, watching as Charon quietly chewed on his Brahmin steak with his eyes picking at the small mound of Insta-Mash on his plate. She looked back to her own plate, her quiet sigh causing him to look up at her.

"Is something wrong?"

Aimee shook her head and pushed her plate away, folding her arms over her chest. "Nah, just not that hungry, I guess…"

Charon stopped eating, fork lowering back to his plate before he abandoned it on top of his napkin.

"Are you ill?" He asked impassively, leaning back into his chair.

"No- just thinking." She replied honestly, picking up her plate to take to the kitchen when she stopped and looked down at him, pointing at his own plate. "Are you finished?"

He shook his head, returning to his food as she went to the kitchen and wrapped up her leftovers, sticking them in the fridge and washed her dirty plate in the small sink. She wiped it dry with a clean cloth and placed it on the shelf behind her. She turned back around to find Charon at the sink and washing his own dirty dish as well, and his sudden appearance made her practically jump out of her skin. She didn't hear him get up, let alone walk into the kitchen and turn on the sink!

"_Jesus,_ Charon…" She murmured- she had long since stopped using his nickname since their misunderstanding. It still made her heart clench in her chest, and she clutched her chest tightly (more out of the pain than the surprise of him coming from _nowhere_).

Charon looked back at her, drying his plate. "Yes, mistress?"

Her eyes darted to the floor. "N- Nothing…" She shook her head, brushing past him to the stairs. "I'm going to get ready for Gob's."

He watched as she casually went up the stairs while he placed his dish on top of hers on the shelf. He had to admit, it was obvious that things were still tense from back in the Springvale school- her words still floated around in his head like an unending curse.

"_I- I thought that you- __**wanted **__payment or something for protecting me…I thought you wanted me to-…"_

_What the __**fuck**__ made her think that was what bothered me?_ Charon growled slightly to himself, plopping down into his chair and leaned back into it, grabbing for his drinking glass across the table. _What the __**fuck**__ made her think that- that __**sex**__ was something that I wanted?_

It was rare that he swore- he did it out of habit when he was enraged to a foul degree. Why her misinterpretation angered him so was because he couldn't blame her one bit- he was extremely vague and out-of-the-blue with his irritated campaign on Colvin. He couldn't blame that she was confused and had gotten the wrong idea, but it still bewildered him that she was so wrong and off course.

Making it simple for himself, he was simply _very_ pissed off.

Case closed.

But then, he realized something. Aimee looked more than willing to have sex with him, which bothered him greatly. He knew she didn't have anything against ghouls, hell, she's made it quite clear that she preferred the company of ghouls over humans, but he didn't know that it extended to the point where she could stomach even _kissing_ one.

His mind returned to the janitor's closet in the elementary school. She kissed him, and he pushed her away… She couldn't keep _doing_ this to him, he was nothing more than her protector and _she_ thought that he wanted-… He'd never take advantage of her in any way, shape, or form. By law and order of the contract, bringing his current employer from Point A to Point B _safely_ was all the payment he needed.

Charon didn't quite know if that was true, or if it was something that was implanted in his mind. Any other memory he had- every face, every voice, every sight- smell- touch- taste- _sound…_ If it has nothing to do with his contract, or his lengthy career as a loyal bodyguard, it is nothing but dust in his mind. He is directed to think of nothing but the employer, the employer's tasks, and the employer's words.

He didn't know what that made Rose. She was long gone before he became… _This._

"_You think that you're such a people person? You think that you can read me like an open book without even opening __**yourself**__ up to me? Well you're __**not!**__ Stop acting like you know everything! Stop acting like you know __**me!**__" _Aimee's enraged voice echoed in his head.

Charon snarled quietly, tossing back a sip of his drink and slammed it back down on the table in anger. That was an order he was given, wasn't it? He'd stop acting like he knew everything (which he didn't), and he'd stop acting like he knew her (which he _did_ know everything about her… That would be a harder task, but years of practice in being a quiet companion made it easier).

Charon rolled his neck to calm himself, closing his eyes and pressing his fingertips into them, gently rubbing the ache from his eyes. He was tired, he wanted to get a few hours of sleep before he got up to help Aimee with the armory's robot tomorrow morning- its wiring was fried or something, so it attacked anyone who even stepped _foot_ into the armory. Lucas Simms got a pretty nasty injury from the Mr. Gutsy… He was lucky he wasn't toasted or turned into a mound of sizzling green goo on the floor. That'd be difficult to explain to his kid.

He didn't know why he kept thinking about the janitor's closet back in Springvale with Aimee, but _another_ thought sprung up like a tormented daisy in his bitter mind.

Could he have been her first kiss?... She kissed like she was inexperienced, like she didn't know what the hell she was doing, but he'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't feel nice. It felt _wonderful._

So wonderfully unexpected…

Rose's face materialized in his weathered mind. Her long, strawberry blonde hair- her big blue eyes… Her sloped nose, her full pink lips, her soft cheekbones… He could have almost sworn that he _smelled_ her perfume just by thinking about her. He never could put a finger on the scent, but it was light and natural. Her face alone stopped the train of thought that was Aimee's kiss and derailed it with a marvelous explosion at the _very_ far edge of his brain.

The creaking of the staircase caused Charon to look up. Aimee was staring at her feet shyly, picking at her fingernails.

"_Giving my thanks to the right person- __**you**__." _Her words echoed in his head once more- the _moment _he saw her face peek out, the words entered his mind. But Rose was still there, smiling as brightly as she had been before she had gotten sick.

"Do I- look okay?" She asked, looking up at him with a little girl innocence in her face. "I bought this the last time I was at Craterside."

He looked down to the clothing she was wearing. It was a slightly faded red jumpsuit, the pant legs torn at mid-thigh to show off the soft flesh of her legs. It was unzipped to her navel and the arms were pulled off from her shoulders so they hung around her broad hips, revealing a slightly dirtied off-white tank top underneath. She wore black sneakers with frayed laces, and her hair was done up in two stubby pigtails.

It wasn't just childlike innocence in her face, it was her essence overall. She reminded him of a rascally ten year old- she was just a rascal in general.

"_**Make me**__ understand, Charon. I'm a fast learner. You know that better than anyone- you said so yourself!"_

_It's for the best… That we keep this relationship professional._ He reminded himself with finality and an inaudible sigh.

"You look fine, mistress." He replied, downing the rest of his water and put the glass back on the table, getting up with a screech of his chair.

She smiled with slight relief, but continued staring at him shyly. "Th- Thanks…" She went to the door with her house key already out. "I won't be gone long- should be back in a couple of hours, maybe sooner..."

"Should I accompany you?" He asked as he followed her to the door.

"No, you can stay here." She shook her head, motioning for him to go upstairs. They had moved his mattress from the floor to the vacant room upstairs, just so he could have his own room and his own privacy. "Take the off-time to catch up on some much needed Z's." She smiled. "Now, don't throw any wild parties without me!" She chuckled.

Charon simply nodded as he went up the stairs and she closed the front door, sighing as she locked it. She made her way to the center of town, making short work of the long sloping walkway that led to Gob's bar and she began to smile sadly to herself, running her fingers through her bangs. She missed some of their conversations, and his once in a while smart-assed comebacks. He did not look like much, but he was quite sharp with his words.

Aimee hadn't noticed she was at the bar until she slammed into the door, making it shift slightly and she stumbled back, rubbing her sore nose.

"D- Damnit…" She murmured as it was pulled back and, through teary-eyed vision, she saw Billy Creel beaming at her.

"I _thought_ I heard your voice, Aimee," He spoke in a warm laugh, moving out of the way for her to come in. "Slam into the door again?"

"Shuddup," She replied, staggering past him and plopped down at the nearest table, tending to her injury. "Just, give it to my straight," She moved her hands from her face so he could take a look at it. "Am I still pretty, doc?"

He chuckled, tilting her chin up in different directions to get a good observation of her nose with his only good eye.

"Still pretty in my books, doll- you're fine." He pulled back and helped her up from the chair.

Aimee chuckled, giving him a quick hug as she passed by and was abruptly stopped by Harden and Maggie practically stampeding towards her with cries of delight. She leaned down to hug them both with a welcomed embrace. She looked up and around the bar, recognizing several faces- Moira, Lucy West, Walter, and last- but not least- Nova and Gob behind the counter.

"Aimee!" Nova exclaimed, walking over to tightly hug her. Now that she didn't work as a whore anymore, she began wearing Pre-War dresses. "How 'ya doin', sweetheart?"

"Good," She nodded in thanks, glancing up to see Gob making his way over as well.

"Hey smoothskin," He greeted, just as Aimee tackled him in a bear hug. He rasped out warm laughter, hugging her back as Moira came over with a Nuka-Cola in her hand.

"Hey there super-trusty research assistant!" She beamed, glugging back some of her soft drink. "I wanted to say thanks again for letting me take notes on you with that crippled leg you had. It looked quite sore!"

Aimee chuckled nervously at the memory- she had actually tripped while she and Charon were hunting for Molerats to test a repellent stick Moira had given her a day or two ago… Needless to say, she stumbled on a rock and then _tumbled_ down a small hill. She was quite clumsy, and had to play off how she got the injury when she let Moira observe her as Charon had to carry her back to Megaton. Now _that_ was awkward.

"Anything I can do to help," Aimee replied awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. "I'll just take my payment in caps- anything I can get will help for when I leave in a few days."

The bar had gone eerily silent, everyone staring up at her with bewildered looks. She met each of the surprised stares with one of her own.

"What?" She finally asked, blinking.

"You're leaving already?" Billy asked, walking towards her. "Didn't you just get back?"

"Ye- Yeah…" She replied, drawing circles on the floor shamefully with the toe of her sneaker, folding her arms behind her back. "But my dad's still out there! And I-"

"It's only been six days since you got home, sugar!" Nova scolded.

"Five days, actually." She corrected, immediately regretting doing so.

The ex-prostitute's expression turned concerned and disapproving as she shook her head. "That's even _worse!"_

"_Awww_, you're leaving so soon trusty research assistant?" Moira whined. "Who's going to slip an observer into a Mirelurk nest for me?"

"Uh-" She furrowed her brows together. "_Not_ me?"

"Well of _course_ not, silly! You'll be gone! But do you _know_ how difficult it is to find research assistants?"

Aimee could only imagine- the woman was eccentric, her strange personality in _itself _was enough to scare away most people let alone some of the bizarre things she requested that they do for the sake of her Survival Guide.

"Can't you just stay a little longer, kid? For old time's sake?" Gob asked worriedly. "We just worry about you, that's all. You come in and out of this place like it was a pit stop! Barely staying before leaving again, and we never know when you're coming back if _at all._"

"Look," She sighed. "I appreciate that you're all concerned but my father is still out there!" She pointed at the door. "And as long as he's out there, I'm out there too, and I won't stop until I find him!"

"I don't know what you're all so worried about her for," Lucy commented, pushing out her bar stool to walk over with a beer bottle in her hand. "Have any of you _seen_ the ghoul she walks around with? He's as big as a Super Mutant, and I've heard he's just as strong as one if he can take a sniper round to the shoulder!"

The image of the thick bullet piercing through Charon's shoulder when the duo went to Minefield for Moira rattled around in Aimee's skull, and even though she never told him, she was utterly _terrified_ despite acting so calm when she patched him up. Then the image of his bare, of clothing and of skin, torso played out before her. Suddenly her hands were running up and down his abdomen, lips trailing over the exposed red muscle lower and lower…

"You okay kid?" Gob asked with a slight cock of his head. "You look like something's on your mind."

Aimee fanned at her face as if it were hot, trying to find an excuse for the reason why it was as red as her jumpsuit.

_A __**lot's **__on my mind…_

"Uh- it's just hot…" She answered instead, looking up when the door slammed open.

Jericho stumbled in- obviously a little buzzed, if not teetering on the edge of drunk. He went to the bar and plopped down with a snide grin on his face.

"A whiskey, rot-bag." He directed to Gob. "And the _top shelf shit,_ not the stuff Moriarty used to piss in."

"Hey! They're kids in here, Jericho!" Bill exclaimed angrily, covering Maggie's ears with Harden staring at the ex-raider curiously.

"It's 'bout damn time 'ya stop babyin' that _precious_ lil' girl of yers... Whazz she? Eight? Nine?" Jericho glanced his way, wriggling a long finger. "I knew how to shoot a gun when I was _four._ Learned how to hold my liquor when I wazz nine, 'n I learned how to fuck when I was _twelve._ You treatin' her like a _princess _is only gonna git 'er _killed_ out there."

"Jericho, how much have you had to drink?" Nova asked with a slight furrow in her brows, walking over to the drunkard with her hands on her hips like a scolding mother.

"'Nuff to know that I'm gonna need more for the hangover I'ma haff in the mornin'!" He chuckled, slapping her firmly on the ass.

"Jericho, I think you've had enough." Aimee stepped between the ex-prostitute and the ex-raider, swatting his hand away from Nova with a stern look on her face.

"Well, if it ain't mah fa'rite _Saint _from the Vault?" He began to eyeball her breasts, licking his lips gently. "Who says I've 'ad 'nuff?"

"_I did._" She pointed towards the door. "Get out."

"Yer zombie ain't 'round," He commented offhandedly, looking around the bar with realization.

"No he isn't, but I'm sure it would only take me a few moments to get him." Her grey eyes narrowed. "Or better yet, should I get Lucas?"

Jericho's face darkened and he grimaced. "Whatchya want from me, doll face?"

"Go home." She helped him up from his chair. "Get some sleep." Led him to the door. "Go to an AA meeting," She opened the door. "Get sober- get _clean,_" Shoved him out. "And do something with your life." Then slammed the door in his face, spinning around on her heel to look back at the rest of the relieved party-goers.

"So… Can someone pull out the good tunes or do I have to start singing to get some life into this place?"

"The radio suits me just fine- won't be able to sleep at night with your singing screeching in my ears like a bad pair of car brakes." Gob smiled from ear to ear (or rather, exposed ear canal to exposed ear canal), turning up the volume radio on the counter. It began to play "Butcher Pete".

"_Hey!_" Aimee cried, laughing.

After about an hour of chatting, listening to a drunken song or two from Gob and Walter, and the girls (excluding Moira, she was tinkering with something at one of the tables that eventually _exploded_) dancing to 'Crazy He Calls Me' by Billie Holiday, Aimee decided it was time to head on home. Giving everyone tight hugs and quick goodbyes, she told Moira she'd be at her supply shop in the morning to pick up her latest payment for testing out her Molerat repellent before leaving the saloon. As she walked down the metal walkway, going over the hump of Nathan and Manya's home with her hands shoved into her pockets and whistling an unnamed tune to herself, a heavy pair of boots began to follow her from out of the shadows between the common house and Gob's Saloon.

But Aimee didn't notice the stranger's presence until her feet clapped down on the metal walkway after the old couple's home and she was pinned against the railing by a pair of strong, calloused hands- coming face-to-face with the grinning mug of a familiar drunkard.

"Hey, doll face."


	31. CHP 31: Wishing On The Moon

**A/N: I'M SORRY I'M LATE POSTING THIS TODAY ._." I'M TERRIBLE T~T**

**So anyways- here's CHP 31! It didn't come out exactly as how I wanted it to, but I think it was still good... But I guess it's all in the eye of the beholder, so review and let me know what you think!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee ducked her face away from Jericho's beady, leering eyes and stared at the ground.<p>

"Jericho, let me go."

"Now _why_ would I wanna do a thing like that, doll face?" He asked with an amused cock of his head, grin deepening. He sounded like he sobered up a bit, no longer slurring his words, and his basic motor functions seemed to have returned to him somewhat.

"Because I'm going to scream bloody murder if you don't?" She shot back, still staring at the floor.

Aimee knew it probably wouldn't help; no one would come out and help her. Everyone who cared about her was back in Moriarty's Saloon, and they probably wouldn't hear her over the blasting of the radio and their drunken singing and dancing. Lucas might hear, but he's all the way on the _other_ damn side of the place, probably sleeping his injuries away. Nathan and Manya were close enough, but who said the old couple would come out fast enough to help?...

She swallowed hard, her bangs coming undone from being tucked behind her ear to hang over her eyes- concealing them like a curtain would a window.

"Look at me." Jericho demanded.

Aimee didn't budge, she instead began to chew on her lower lip. She pushed against one of his hands, hoping that he'd move his arm enough for her to escape, but instead his grip tightened on the railing.

"I said _look_ at me, bitch!" He spat, removing one hand from the railing to replace it with a shift of his leg and grabbed onto her chin roughly, forcing her eyes to meet his. He did _not_ look happy.

She snarled at him, but all he did was chuckle.

"'Ya know how innocent 'ya look, doll face?" He tilted her chin up slightly, making the moonlight rebound off her beautiful features, and he licked his dry lips like a hungry vulture. "Innocent enough to drive men crazy and probably think 'bout 'ya while their fucking their wives- tell me, Saint… Has your shuffler fucked you?"

"No." She snapped, darting her eyes away, but his fingers tightening on her jaw line as if it were in a vice grip forced her to look back at him. "He's never touched me… But I don't see how our _business_ relationship is any of your concern!"

"It _ain't_ my business. Course, you're makin' it my business _now_ by spillin' yer guts." He grinned from ear to ear, tilting his head back slightly as if to get a better look at her. "'Ya needa be fucked by a _real_ man- not some fucking zombie who probably has as much dick as he has brains."

Aimee narrowed her eyes, snarling like a dog before lashing out to try and bite the hand that was around her jaw. Jericho pulled the hand back, smiling and laughing.

"Oh, so that's how you wanna play, doll face?" He taunted, pulling his leg to snap it back so his knee connected with her gut.

She cried out, groaning in pain as it blossomed in her torso like hellfire and she wrapped her arms over her stomach as she collapsed to her knees in front of him. She landed on her elbows, shoulders trembling as she heaved violently. He entangled his fingers into her hair, tugging her head back and crouched down in front of her till her unfocused and bleary eyes met his toothy grin.

''Ya think I wanna _fuck 'ya_ after that zombie already had his fun chewing yer brains out? Nah, don't want a shuffler's sloppy seconds." He licked his lips again, lowering his head down to hers so his grin barely brushed over hers, but she could feel the rough stubble on his chin as if it were sandpaper. He wrapped an arm around the small of her back and pressed him to his chest. She brought up her arms to create a barrier between them.

"Wha- What do you _want?_" She snarled, eyes tightly screwing shut at the pain of her hair roots being tugged from her skull.

"Papa just wants a little taste…" He answered with spite.

Jericho smashed his lips into Aimee's, tongue darting out from between his lips to flick at hers. She had never felt so nauseated in her life, and the pulsing pain in her gut died away slightly as she willed herself to try and push him away. He only tightened his grip on her hair, causing her to cry out in pain and he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into the confines of her mouth. Needless to say, Aimee took _that_ opportunity to bite down on it. Yelling out in pain more than shock, the ex-raider recoiled with blood trickling down his thin bottom lip, pulling back into a snarl of a frown. He touched at his lip, wiping the blood away.

"You naughty _bitch,_" He taunted with a crude laugh, spitting the blood out of his mouth at her, and she ducked her face away to have it land in her hair and splatter on her shirt and shoulder. "You _still_ wanna play like that? I'm game- oh _shit,_ am I fucking _game!_"

Jericho got to his feet, grabbing onto the railing at each side of her head for support as he pulled his foot back and launched it forward, connecting with her gut in the same place he kneed her. She yelled out, head snapping back to hit the railing with a loud thump and she wrapped her arms over her stomach, biting down on her lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction by crying or begging for mercy. Blood began to trickle down her chin- she was biting her lip too hard.

He kicked again and again, attempts not as strong as they would have been if she wasn't protecting herself with her arms. With his grimace turning into an amused smirk, he decided to find a new ground for attack.

"I wonder if your rotting _fuck toy_ will want 'ya when yer missing a few teeth? Wonder if he'll even wanna _look_ at you when I bash your pretty little face in?"

With that, he pulled his leg back and bent his knee, forcing it upward in one fluid motion.

Aimee caught the surprise attack and raised her arms up so they were an 'X' over her face, twisting her head away as his knee connected with the center of her crossed arms. The back of her head smashed into the railing again, and all she heard was the howl of metal shrieking behind her as the railing gave out and tumbled down over the side- with her following.

"_**Charon!**_" She cried out as she felt her legs leaving the metal walkway, and she lashed out for something to grab onto. Jericho stepped back with a grin, not wanting to interrupt her free-fall as she plummeted. Her legs were sprawled out as she went over the jutting platform, arms still outstretched, as if she were trying to fly to catch herself. The platform began to retreat farther and farther as she got closer and closer to the ground.

Aimee looked up at the sky- it was a full moon, shining through a small cluster of dark clouds, and for a second, she could have _sworn_ she heard pounding footsteps... Or maybe that was her heart, begging that her young life wouldn't end here and now with a far fall and never finding solace in finding her father.

She reached her palm up to the full face of the moon, curling her fingers more so it almost looked like it was cradled in her fingertips- it looked like she was holding it, like it was only meant for her, and no one else…

"_The world is in the palm of your hand, sweetheart. It's all a matter of what you do with it- you're a very intelligent young lady, just like your mother…"_

Her father had told her that when she was younger. He always told her she was a bright young woman- meant to do something so much _more_ with her life than what the Vault had to offer or what the G.O.A.T. labeled her to be destined as. She didn't think that she truly knew what he meant until now- now that she was out in the Wasteland and away from Vault 101, with her good deeds and her existence as the Lone Wanderer a shining ray of hope for the poor people that surrounded her.

Aimee didn't know if she was screaming or not. She didn't even know if she had actually yelled out Charon's name as she went over the edge, or if her mind had yelled it. If she closed her eyes, it was almost like she was flying instead of free falling… Maybe, if she closed her eyes, when she hit the ground she'd only look like she was sleeping instead of actually being _dead._

So she closed her eyes with her fingers surrounding the moon like it was hers. She closed her eyes and pretended that she was flying to her father, wherever he was. She closed her eyes so it only looked like she was sleeping when her body was found, because maybe then it wouldn't seem so bad and the people who actually cared wouldn't cry so much…

But then, she fell into outstretched arms, her body drawn in to a leathery chest- rising and falling against her a little heavily, as if this person was having trouble breathing. She cracked an eye open to see the blur of a rugged face, intense blue eyes, and dead strands of red hair swaying gently with the soft wind. When her vision narrowed so she could see clearly, she saw Charon staring back down at her with the ominous blue glow of the moon from between the clouds above caressing his complexion. His grip tightened under her body as he brought her closer to his chest.

"Are you alright, Aimee?" He asked calmly.

She slowly nodded as if hesitating- not exactly sure if her wits could exactly gather and process what had _just happened._

Aimee looked up to where she had fallen. The railing was bent outward, towards the center of the town and Jericho was long gone. He must have ran the moment he saw Charon booking it to catch her- the guy wouldn't admit it, but he was intimidated by the ghoul.

"Are you positive?" He asked, eyes trailing up to where she was staring.

"Ju- Just scared shit-l-less, is all…" She replied in a trembling voice, looking back to him with her eyes turning blurry from oncoming tears. "Jericho, he-… The railing broke, and…" She couldn't find the words to describe to her bodyguard exactly what had happened.

"…I request permission to hunt down the drunkard and dispose of him." Charon demanded, eyes returning to hers as the tears began to brim on the inner corners of her eyes.

"Ch- Charon?..."

"Yes?"

"…_Please-_ be quiet for a moment."

Aimee wrapped her trembling arms around his neck and pulled his head down to her, smashing her lips into his with her eyes tightly shut- tears streaming from between her eyelids. It was _all_ she knew that would keep the ghoul from talking any further, and it was all she knew to do that would comfort her. He stood stock-still, not tensing but not exactly _relaxing_ either. When she pulled back slowly, breathing a little heavily as the pain seemed to return to her wounded heart and her stomach, she stared up at him with unfocused eyes, still dripping tears.

Maybe she was lying to herself. She knew kissing Charon again wouldn't give her any sort of comfort, she was probably using the situation as a last stand; "I just fell like- _a __**thousand**_ feet from the walkway above, I'm pretty sure Jericho was going to beat me to a bloody pulp or even _kill_ me- haven't I gotten enough abuse without us arguing and treating each other like total strangers over a little misunderstanding?"

He didn't look at all pleased that she had kissed him _again_ in less than a week, but instead of voicing his frustration he spun on his heel and began walking towards the metal slope that led directly to their home, still carrying her like a new bride.

"I suppose I will go hunting another time… Treating you is a higher priority." He replied sternly- now it was _obvious_ he wasn't pleased- but it was most likely because he couldn't kill Jericho.

Charon looked down at Aimee, huddled against his chest, blinking with a wide-eyed blank stare into the leather material of his armor. She circled her fingertip into the design, tracing miscellaneous patterns with her other arm draped over her stomach. Not _only_ did she look like a rascally ten year old, she looked like a rascally ten year old that got into a fight she couldn't finish and got her lunch money stolen from her in the process. She looked blank, frustrated, and just plain _tired._

He shook his head as they went up the path and made their way to the front door of their house. He took out the key from the lamp above the doorframe and unlocked the door, replacing the key and stepping in. He slammed it shut behind him, locking it and heading towards the stairs.

"Te- Tell Lucas in the morning…" She murmured, sounding quite drowsy with her eyelids fluttering closed.

"I will tell him once I take care of you." He answered, going up the stairwell one by one.

"No… He's sleeping right now- I'm not the _only_ injured one in this town…"

"And by morning, we may add another name to the list of people Doc Church will need to treat." He replied tensely.

Aimee cringed a little in his arms at that, fingers curling into his armor front.

"Tell him in the morning." She demanded again, her voice no longer wavering with effort as he laid her down to her bed.

"If that is what you wish..." He answered reluctantly and nodded, turning around and going down the stairs to the small corner they called their kitchen. He opened the toolbox they kept on the top shelf of their metal shelving, flipping the top open to peer in and remove a few Stimpaks and Med-X syringes.

Getting what he wanted, he closed the box and returned to the stairs. When he went up to Aimee's room and pushed the door open (he recalled that he hadn't closed it)- and found that her bed was empty. He looked around the bare room, if you excluded her mountain of Pre-War crap in every corner and littered all over her desk, toys scattered across the floor and such- there was obviously no such thing as _flooring_ in her room, as it was all hidden by her obsession. He didn't know how he managed not to crush any of them when he came in to lay her to bed, as he accidentally broke one of her pristine Nuka-Cola trucks a few weeks ago- before they went to Three Dog- and she threw a _huge_ fit. It seemed like the only reason she forgave him was because it was an accident, he didn't _mean_ to crush it, and it may have also attributed to the fact that it was on the staircase and when he stepped on it, he went tumbling all the way down…

"Mistress?" He called, ducking out and looking up to his bedroom door to find it slight ajar. He poked his head in, finding Aimee to be sleeping on his mattress in the far corner, chest rising and falling with content sleep. His blanket was tugged up over her to rest under her chin as she cooed softly with sleep, hugging his pillow to her chest as if it were another person for her to cuddle with.

_What is she doing in here?..._ He wondered, glancing up at her closed bedroom door over his broad shoulder.

Charon knelt down at her side, pulling the blanket back and rolling up the hemline of her tank top to inject her stomach with Med-X, and even though he knew she wouldn't like using addictive drugs, she'd need it for when the Stimpaks began healing some of her abused ribs. She stirred only slightly when he injected her with the Stimpaks and let them drain into her system before removing them and placing the empty boosters on his nearby table.

He walked to the door and grabbed the knob, looking back over his shoulder one last time to watch his employer sleep before shaking his head in disapproval and closed the door with a low, throaty grumble.

Why was it every time she showed the least bit of kindness, he said nothing? He'd only allow himself to stew in his own nagging thoughts, with every _fucking_ letter in that contract clicking away at what he was trained to believe was right- it almost burned, as if trying to burrow out of his skull.

Why was it he couldn't bring himself to say a damn thing to stop her or alert her of the fact that she was violating the only remaining memories he had of Rose before she died?...

Charon glanced back at his closed bedroom door.

He knew _exactly _why- because every _damn_ time she touched him or hugged him or grabbed for his hand- and lately, _kissed_ him- it was because she needed comfort. He'd only be hurting her by forcing her away, and somewhere, deep inside- and he means _deep_ down, probably some place he hadn't explored in a long time or deemed to have been locked up and the key tossed away- he _didn't_ want to hurt her… He _didn't_ want to push her away, because after the hundreds of years of his ghoulish existence, he needed the comfort that he hadn't had since Rose died. He wanted the comfort of knowing that someone cared and appreciated him...

Or maybe it was because he'd sometimes see Rose in his employer.

Ghoul or not, he was still _very _much human… Despite the contract holding him in an iron fist. He wasn't an empty shell, he was just a shell of the man he _used _to be with someone else laying inside it.

This was a game. A very, very, _very_ cruel game that possibly the wrath of God had forced on him. He was never a religious man, but when he started- _changing,_ he prayed like there was no tomorrow, asking that he survive. Well, he did, and he paid all his dues by having to walk around looking like a rotting corpse. Now, here he was, chasing a nineteen year old girl like a dream he had to sit back and watch for far too long- people looking left and right, wondering how she got suckered into something to this degree.

Aimee was no sucker, not from what he witnessed, she knew when something was up and she'd Encyclopedia Brown the _bitch_ out of the situation till she got the full story laid out for her- then she'd pluck it to pieces, doing what she could to bring order and peace to this chaotic world no matter the cost.

What the hell had happened to him? He was soft now- feeling more than he cared to feel in a fucking long time… This damn Vault kid was going to be the death of him- whether he shot his own brains out or if she turned him feral.

_But, maybe, being with Aimee till the end isn't such a bad idea… _He thought.

It was just a matter of seeing whose end came around first, and if Rose's smiling face in his mind betrayed him for a few moments, he could rest his weary head and get the sleep he wanted. A dreamless sleep, just the way he liked it.


	32. CHP 32: Interrogation Measures

**A/N: ****First of all: ALRIGHT! I know some of you have been WANTING THIS for what happened in the last chapter... So here it is! Jericho gets some just desserts from our favorite beast of a ghoul for putting his hands on his employer! I hope you all enjoy :D (And I hope it came out decent enough so your eyes don't believe...)**

**Second of all: Some inappropriate language, and suggestive content from Jericho just for some shits and giggles on Charon's expense (you'll know what I'm talking about when you see it!)**

**Third of all: PLEASE! If you enjoy my writing, head on down to my LOVELY profile and check out my two-shot Saving Me. The fic is based around an All Grown Up Bryan Wilks- a full summary is inside and I would appreciate some feedback because I'd like to know if I should expand on it past those two chapters. Please give as much feedback as you possibly can, good OR bad! I love you all ;D -makes heart with hands-**

**So ON WITH THE SHOW after my MASSIVE amount of random rambling... I love you all for reviewing, especially if you've been with me from the beginning. You all have a special place in my heart, I hope you know that! Thanks for everything guys! -gives you all cookies-**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Charon knocked on the cold metal door, dropping his rolled fist back to his side as he waited impatiently, standing perfectly still with the wind howling against his back in the cold of the night. His eyes narrowed in between the mesh wiring that overlay the small window that peered into the Megaton house, and the lights were off.<p>

He was standing on Jericho's doorstep, and he either wasn't home or he was trying to ride out his hangover. It didn't matter to him, he had all the damn time in the world. He'd wait on that stoop till the drunken bastard returned from whatever place he was loitering or was able to get up and answer it without hurting himself. He'd wait all night, he'd wait all day, he'd wait till-

"…_**Please**__- be quiet for a moment."_

Charon growled at the memory of Aimee kissing him. Not because she took the liberty of doing so (even though he could reason that it might be part of why it tormented him so), but because she tasted like cigarettes. Cigarettes and stale alcohol. He knew that she drank on rare occasions, and even then she doused herself with wine, but she tasted like whiskey. He knew that she would _never_ smoke, she thought it was a disgusting habit. But he _also_ knew someone who drank whiskey on a daily basis and probably smoked twice as much.

As if some greater being in the universe was answering his question, the door swung upon to reveal the ex-raider, Jericho, with heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes, and he narrowed them as he rubbed his head.

"Fuckin' zombie… 'ya got _any_ idea what time it is? Or did all that radiation rot yer fuckin' brain?"

"I am well aware of the hour." He shoved Jericho back into his house with a hand to his chest, stepping in and slamming the door shut behind him before anyone happened to waltz by and get all curious about what was going on.

"The _fuck_ you doin' asshole?" He barked angrily, eyes sharply narrowing, and he pointed at the door. "Get the _fuck_ out before I put you out of your misery!"

"Not unless I end you first, which has become a tempting option for quite a while now." He answered calmly. "What was your business with Aimee?"

The ex-raider snorted with amusement, smirking a little. "Your _fuck_ toy, the Vault princess? Ole' Jericho ain't got a damn need to do business with the bitch."

Charon latched his hand onto the front of Jericho's shirt, jerking him forward before roughly shoving him on his back against the wall and pushing him up it so his feet barely grazed the ground. He let out a choked breath of surprise, clawing at his rotting arm with his eyes screwed tightly shut as he opened and closed his mouth; gasping for air like a struggling, beached fish.

"You better think _long_ and _hard_ before you begin lying to me." He warned, a smirk twitching the corners of his lips as he pulled his combat knife from his thigh, pressing the tip of it against Jericho's cheekbone- riding against the corner of his eyelids till it drew blood.

Jericho chuckled hoarsely, opening his other eye a fraction. "You- You think this is the first time some Wasteland fuck _wannabe_ has tried to hold me with a fuckin' _butter knife?_ You think I haven't been threatened before? You think I'm _scared_ of you, zombie? I got more skin on my _ass_ than you do your entire body!"

"I won't deny- I never thought this would have been the first time you've been threatened, but I wonder if this is the first time you have been confronted by someone who has been around longer than the Capital Wastes has existed, and knows _every. Damn. __**Trick**__ in the book_ to get the information he wants." Charon smirked now, a little bitterly with a smidge of a sneer. "I'm well-versed in the act of torture. Of course, I might only engage it because I'd _enjoy_ watching you squirm."

Charon knew that was partially untrue. Yes, he'd enjoy watching the bastard squirm, but the image of a broken and battered draped in his arms as he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom lingered at the front of his mind. _So_ _close,_ in fact, that when he blinked he could see it behind his eyelids.

Jericho's grin faltered slightly and the Adam's apple in his gullet bobbed slightly as he swallowed.

"You're an ex-raider, aren't you? You know _exactly_ how they play with their victims… Have you ever scalped a man? _Denailed him _by using a wedge and hammer under each finger and toenail, _slowly _ramming the wedge deeper and deeper until you are able to rip the nail up by the roots with pliers? Have you ever torn out a man's insides with your bare hands and forced him to eat it? Have you skinned a man as you would a crisp apple, peeling by peeling till there's nothing left but muscle, and continue even then till you reach bone while he screams for death to come to him?"

His grin continued to decrease and decrease on his once smug face with every detail Charon supplied him with.

"I don't doubt that you haven't been threatened before," Charon confirmed, pressing the tip of his knife blade into the edge of the man's eyelid, drawing even more bubbles of ruby. He shimmied it some, causing Jericho to cringe in pain as it dug slightly into the socket- implying he _could_ take out his eye, but wouldn't. He wanted Jericho to watch _everything._ "But I can guarantee that you haven't been threatened by someone like me before."

"You mean a ghoul?"

"No," He shook his head, removing the knife from the man's eye to his upper arm with the sharp edge of the blade pressed flat against his dark skin. "You haven't received a threat from a man as skilled as I am. I can assure you that whatever I do to you now, it will make you _wish_ you were out there being mulled by a Yao Guai and surviving to let whatever other creatures pick over your pathetic remains. At least then it would be quicker and a lot less painful than what I have in mind _for you._"

Jericho eyed him warily, as if now fully understanding the situation he was in.

"So I remind you again, think long and hard before you lie to me." He pressed the blade into his arm to make his point. "What did you do to Aimee?"

"I was a little drunk. She looked like a nice hit." He gave a little shrug, trying to act as if he didn't care.

Charon dug the blade in, causing Jericho to wince again, but he could see the ex-raider trying not to make any noises of pain as he skimmed the blade over his skin- removing a light layer to reveal agitated red-pink underneath.

"Be specific."

"You gettin' some kinda thrill outta this, zombie?" He snorted. "What? She not _kinky_ enough for you? Guess a smokin' hot bitch like that sucking off your cock isn't 'nuff… She looks like she'd know a thing or two…"

An image flashed into his head of Aimee doing just that. He was pressed against the edge of a table, head arched back with his rough hand entangled in her damp curls as her plump lips rocked back and forth on his manhood with her hands firmly planted on his exposed hips to keep him from bucking into her pouty mouth. Her wide, innocent eyes were trained on his face, dry and cracked lips twisted into a throaty groan.

Charon took off another thin layer of skin, but had removed a bit more than the first peel as a fair warning to watch his mouth. It was a nice distraction from the… _special treatment_ the mental image of Aimee was giving him right about now.

"Answer the question. Did you touch her?"

"'Course I did- didn't get my hands anywhere _interesting_ though. Had to use 'em to hold her down." He smirked cruelly, brows furrowing down over his beady eyes. "She tries to act all sweet and heroic, rainbows and pretty bows and all that innocent girly shit, but I can see that she wants it _bad._ Maybe not from me, but who the fuck cares? I fuckin' don't, that's for damn sure!"

He skinned another dark peel from his arm, and Jericho couldn't help but seethe under his breath, biting down on his thin bottom lip to keep it from rising in volume.

"You kissed her." Charon stated more than he asked.

"So?" His smirk deepened into a harsh grin immediately. "Those lips are _juicy_- they were just _beggin'_ for me to bite 'em…"

He pulled the ex-raider away from the wall before slamming him back against it, causing him to howl out in pain as a loose nail from a beam along the wall stabbed into his shoulder blade with a sickening noise.

"What else did you do to my mistress?"

"_Mistress?_ Well ain't _that_ all sorts'a kinky…"

Jericho cried out as another layer of skin was peeled away and flicked off the long blade to land on the ground with a quiet _plop._

"I kicked 'er around a bit is all."

"_Is __**all?**_" Charon mimicked in a bark with a flare of anger spiking in him. He removed his blade from Jericho's arm and pressed it to his neck, below his bobbing Adam's apple. "You shoved her off a walkway almost forty feet high."

"So what?"

"You pushed her."

"You gotta point to make?"

He pressed the blade in slightly, making the ex-raider gag as ruby bubbled to meet the shining blade.

"You _ever_ touch her again and you'll be picking up whatever teeth you have _left _with broken fingers." He smirked, allowing a throaty chuckle to escape his lips. "That is _if_ I get bored with you... Maybe I should cut you up? Then throw you into the deepest radiation pocket I can find- and let whatever comes across your sorry sack of skin, bleeding out into the dirt, consume you. But that's if the _radiation_ doesn't take an unfortunate toll on you. The creatures out there don't care much for _rancid_ food..." He let out another chuckle- sick and taunting.

Charon finally realized something. Only around Aimee was he somewhat "sweet" and "kind." Only around Aimee was he reserved and level-headed... He had done this before- shaken down a fucking bastard for messing with his Rose, but the guy was a trembling and pissing himself _mess _the moment he saw Charon.

Jericho wasn't.

Well, not until he had brought up possibly ghoulifying him... It was a terrifying idea for many Wastelanders- _worse _than succumbing to death, even. He always assumed it was because it was like you were actually dead, but hanging on the thin thread of all the malicious you had done and some cosmic force was forcing you to stay on the hell-ridden Earth and _take _your punishment in full swing… But ghoulification wasn't a sure thing. It'd either kill you, or give you the gift of "immortality" and take away your dashing good looks.

Good thing Jericho didn't have much of a life to live, or much of a handsome mug to give away to a radioactive cheese grater.

"I'll ask you once more- and like I mentioned twice, you better think _long_ and _hard_ before you begin lying to me." Charon dug his blade in deeper into his dark flesh below the Adam's apple, making Jericho gag again. "What did you do to _Aimee?_"

"Jus' wanted to scare that prissy Vault bitch right outta her! She pissed me the _fuck _off 'n things got rough. The fuck does it matter? She's still got that pretty face of hers, don't she?" That cocky smile seemed to return to his mouth. "She'll get over it and go back to suckin' your rottin' dick in _no_ time."

Charon snarled like an enraged animal, lips bared back to reveal his yellowed teeth as his eyes narrowed and sharpened- resembling that of a hungry wolf with icicle eyes. He was too enraged by the ex-raider's jabs at his employer to let the dirty and unwanted image flitter back into his mind. He could take the cruel words- the jeers, the harsh looks and the bullets. So could Aimee- but not if he was given the chance to stop it, and the bastard before him was a _very _nice place to start.

Jericho _knew_ that he'd feel sorry for the words he said.

But he wouldn't actually _regret_ them until three long hours later, and the terrifying _beast_ of a ghoul was already gone before Lucas Simms came along and found Jericho strapped down to his bed- missing most of the skin on his upper arms, shoulders, and all down his torso and legs. He'd be missing a few of his absent toes, teeth, and one of his ears, soon enough. Most of that was probably sizzling away in his stomach acid right about now, if he hadn't thrown it up already.

Radiation pocket or not- Charon sat on the little patio that was built on Aimee's roof, jutting out slightly over the front door to create a nice little place of shade below him. A skeleton of an umbrella sat next to him with a tattered quilt of different fabrics of all colors and textures was draped over it, trying to create as much shade as possible for the ghoul. He watched with a sly smirk, etching itself onto his face when he saw Lucas Simms run out of Jericho's home with the door still open and yelled at a nearby patron to retrieve Doc Church for him.

Charon had no doubt in his mind that the ex-raider would probably want to tell the sheriff who did this to him, but if he didn't want Lucas hearing about who was the one that abused and then sent their precious resident angel on a flying escapade, he couldn't breathe a damn word to anybody. He continued to watch as more people settled around the house, watching what was going on. He had to stand up after a while, because so many people clustered around the residence he couldn't see what was going on. He cupped a large hand around his eyebrow, shielding his eyes from the glint of the early afternoon sun.

Not too long after did a small and fragile voice call out for him.

"Ch- _Charon?..._ Where _are_ you?"

It was Aimee, calling from underneath the hatch. She had probably just woken up.

So with the effort of trying to wipe the sly smirk off his face so his employer wouldn't become suspicious when the news of Jericho's torture spread through town, he closed up the umbrella, yanked up the hatch and instead of tossing down the rope ladder to climb down he simply jumped down, pulling the lid of the opening down with him.


	33. CHP 33: I Thought I Saw You Smile

**A/N: HEEEEEEEEEEEEEY YOOOOOOOOOOOU GUUUUUUUUUYS! ;D Wazzup?**

**Anyways, all random "hello"s aside- here's CHP 33! I decided to post it early, because I couldn't wait any longer xD LOL!**

**I hope you like it, 'cause I think it came out kinda cute and mysterious. Lemme know what you think!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>It had taken a week, much to Aimee's disappointment, before it was ruled that she was healed up enough to so much as get up and walk around (the ruling came from Charon, who had kneeled to her every whim as long as she was bedridden). Due to the fact that she hated using drugs, she toughed it out with nothing but half a pump of Stimpaks once daily. No Jet, Psycho, Buffout, Med-X, Mentats- nada.<p>

So here she was in her room, pulling out some clean clothes to slip into as she was planning on visiting Moira to get the package she requested two weeks ago when they first came back to Megaton- the one she ordered for Charon as a gift. The air was starting to get a bit cold outside the closer they got to November, but it felt more like a light breeze. Nothing that her favorite leather jacket couldn't fix. She put on a faded grey long shirt with spaghetti straps (it was so stretched out, and because she was so short, the hem stopped at her mid-thigh), cloth tights underneath with inch-thick vertical stripes that interchanged between black and dark grey, and pulled on her leather jacket. She grabbed her house key from her desk and pulled her bedroom door open, coming down the stairs singing a happy tune to herself as she went to the kitchen. Charon was already there, working with a hot plate and a kettle.

He glanced up at her. "Going somewhere?"

"You said I was fine to get up on my feet, so yes, I am." She shot a playful smirk as she walked over to watch him work. "Whatcha makin'?"

He tossed her an unopened Styrofoam container of noodles, and she caught it in mid-air. It said chicken flavored on the yellow plastic label, with a picture of a roasted bird on it, but the meal tasted a _lot _like Radroach gizzards cooked and floating in their own green juices.

"You're not going out just yet." He answered as he went to the kitchen with his kettle and filled it up at the sink.

"_What?_" She whined, putting the container of noodles down on the foldout dining table before she dropped it. "Why not?"

"Because I know you. Even when we're in Megaton, trouble seems to follow you around like a stray puppy looking for a meal." He replied, glancing back at her. "You could find trouble in a paper _bag._"

She grinned from ear to ear, considering his jabbing as a compliment.

"I'm just an exciting person, what can I say?" She shrugged. "And I don't think there's anything _dangerous_ about going to Moira's for my payment, _do you?_"

"The vicinity of that insane woman's _shop _is dangerous. Every time we walk in there, she's either working on something that explodes, trying to come up with a new wonder drug that blows up in her face, or she tries to get _you_ to do a task for her that will most likely get you blown up into smithereens."

"You saying she's prone to blowing stuff up?" Aimee asked with an amused smile and a cock of her eyebrow.

Charon glared back at her over his shoulder, and she held up her arms in front of her body in a surrendering gesture.

"Okay, okay, no need to give me the stare of ultimate _doom_. _**Jesus**_ if I had known better, I think your _glares_ are more likely to set me on fire then one of Moira's experiments…"

He gave a quiet "hrmn" and went back to work. Once the kettle was full, he went to the hot plate and set it on its hot surface, pulling up his chair to sit himself down with his arms folded stubbornly over his chest.

"I've already got your payment, besides." He spoke.

She glanced over to him, still leaning into the table with her muscles tense. Oh no! Did Moira give him the package?

"You- you _did?_"

Charon nodded his head to the drawstring bag of caps sitting on top of the bookcase at his side. The "please forgive me" package Aimee had bought from Moira wasn't there- still giving her reason to leave the house and check up on the shopkeeper to get a status on where her request stands.

She gave a gentle sigh of relief as she pulled her short hair back into a ponytail (she'd have to get it cut soon, her bangs kept getting into her eyes) as she made her way to the door and stomped into her dirty converse, hastily tying them up.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," She spoke, but stopped when she heard Charon's chair shift as he got up to follow her. "Oh _no_ you don't! You're staying _here!"_

He continued walking towards her with a glassy stare in his eyes.

"And why is that?" He asked.

"Because I said so!" She replied childishly as she stuck out her tongue, opening the door and jumping out into the sunlight. "I'll be back soon!" Then slammed it shut and jogged down the metal walkway to the center of town. It looked quite busy, as she could see some newcomers bustling in and out of Doc Church's clinic or sitting at the outdoor bar of the Brass Lantern, trying to flirt with Jenny but ultimately failing or staring at the giant bomb with an uneasy glint in their weathered eyes and gave a hard swallow.

Aimee continued on till she got to the walkway that led up to Moira's shop, daring to steal a glance at the platform edge where she had fallen. It wasn't fixed just yet, but it was taped off and Charon told her that Lucas had paid Wolfgang to bring back some parts from out in the Wastes so Walter could repair it. Until then, people gave the broken railing a wide berth out of fear of "tripping and tumbling off" like she had. That was the lie Lucas told everyone so that they wouldn't get paranoid about someone going around shoving people off of platforms.

She recalled that a day or so after she had plummeted over the edge, through the small window in her room (Billy made it for her, reinforced with chicken wire for some of the rad storms that blew through) she heard two Megaton settlers talking below her window. They were gossiping about Jericho- saying that he was in the clinic because he was banged up pretty badly. They didn't really say what the injuries were, as one of the gossipers complained the thought of it just made her sick, but Aimee knew that Jericho got what was coming to him- and it _wasn't_ from cushy old law-by-the-bullet Lucas Simms. If it was, the ex-raider wouldn't have lived- he would have undergone a very quick death with a round of bullets to the head or to the chest.

The moment she heard the two Megaton settlers gossiping, a little voice in her head sang; "_Charon did it. He did it **just **for you!"_

She still didn't know what Charon had done, but she wasn't too keen on finding out or asking him if it was truly him who did it. Fear of his answer kept her from even mentioning it in the slightest.

"Hey Aimee!" Moira exclaimed happily, turning to her as she walked through the Craterside Supply door. "Your friend was in here a few days ago and he got your payment."

"Friend?..." She blinked when she realized Moira meant Charon. Everyone either referred to him as "that ghoul" or "your bodyguard." "Oh yeah, Charon." She nodded. "He did. But I came in here to check something else…"

"You mean your package?" She grinned from ear to ear, putting a neatly wrapped package on the table. It was covered in stiff brown paper, and tied up with dingy twine that looked just about ready to snap if touched briefly.

"Oh my God," Aimee exclaimed with wide eyes, walking over to stare at it. "Is that it?"

Moira nodded, lightly pushing it towards her. "Yup! The caravans worked together to help find what you needed. When I put in your request and said it was from you, they all practically jumped on it! Looks like a lot of people are really fond of you."

"I can't believe this!" She cried, turning to grab her drawstring of caps from her belt but stopped and frowned.

"…Uh oh." She winced, looking back to the shop owner.

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

"I forgot my caps at home…" She sighed, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "If you could hold on a minute, I'll run back and get it."

"Take your time, it's not like I'm _going _anywhere!" Moira laughed, turning and putting the package into the locker behind her for safe keeping.

Aimee quickly thanked her and jogged to the door, ripping it open and hurriedly stepping out to slam into someone and stumble back- landing flat on her back.

"_Oof!_" She cried out, glowering up at the person she slammed into to have her eyes soften. "Ch- Charon…"

Charon walked over casually and grabbed her hands, hoisting her up to her feet in one fluid motion with relative ease. She wasn't surprised- he was quite strong, and she didn't weigh all that much.

"I figured you'd like this," He spoke as he continued to hold her hand and held up her lunchbox of money. "You forgot it in your rush to leave me at home."

Aimee looked up at him through her bangs, smiling appreciatively as she took it from him with a grateful nod. She turned back to Moira and dished out the caps for the request, and then shelled out a bit more for the caravans who helped put it together.

"I'll be leaving in a few days. I'll be scavenging around, so if they're willing to wait I'll be more than happy to bring each of them back something nice."

"I'll let them know!" Moira waved as Aimee took her package, grabbed Charon by the arm and walked out. "Come back soon! You get a _special_ discount on supplies for helping me with the book!"

Charon closed the door behind them as they turned down the metal walkway. Aimee hugged her package to her chest closely, which was kind of hard to with how thick it was. She handed her lunchbox to Charon, asking that he hold it for her as they stopped in front of their house and she fumbled her hand into her pocket to retrieve her key. The ghoul was faster, as he already had the spare key out from the lantern above and unlocked the door- pushing it open so she could waltz in first.

"What's she got you doing now?" He asked, looking at the package over her shoulder. "Special delivery for a Yao Guai with two heads? Maybe a formula to remove that mutation she gave you?"

"Hardee-har-har," She shot him a sarcastic look with hooded eyes, looking back down at the package. "She's not as crazy as you think she is. And that _mutation_ isn't _dangerous,_ so I don't see why I should get it checked out."

"Convince me otherwise."

"About Moira's sanity or the mutation?"

"Both."

Aimee took a moment to pause and think of a rebuttal as she shut the door behind her with her foot.

"You don't have a lick of proof for either, do you?" He asked after a while.

"…Shuddup." She replied, looking over her shoulder to see him pulling off his boots and walking towards the foldout dining table. It was rare when she saw him without his armor top on- as he was wearing nothing but a black tank undershirt (which was _always _underneath his armor), and his leather armor pants. The guy could use some more variety in his wardrobe- and it's not like anyone cared, this was the _Wasteland_ for Christ's sake, but Aimee would be lying if she said that he didn't make something so simple look _so_ good.

The tank undershirt wasn't skin-tight, but formfitting enough to dimple into the crevices of his muscles and exaggerate all the sinews and pulsing veins that lay underneath- exposed to her eyes. Growing up in the Vault, she respected her father's position as the doctor and she learned much from him (thank God for that, or she'd be lying in a ditch right about now…), but it wasn't her calling as much as she loved helping people. Looking back on it now, at all the skeletons and anatomy posters her father had pinned up on the clinic walls, she had no particular interest in them but looking at _Charon…_ It caught her interest like a Yao Guai in a bear trap.

Charon turned around and gawked at her, catching the reddened state her face was in.

"Something wrong, mistress?" He asked, snapping her back to what was going on. Her face reddened even _further_ when she realized she was caught staring at him.

"N- Nothing!" She exclaimed, a little too quickly and a little too loudly, and ducked her head to stare at the floor as she hurriedly brushed past him. _That_ was a big mistake, as he grabbed her shoulder to stop her. She clung onto the package, held so tightly against her chest.

But suddenly, his grip softened, and he removed his hand. When her eyes darted back to him, he was looking away from her and sat down in his seat to listen to the hiss of the kettle as the water boiled in its belly. She continued to stare at him, tracing the veins going up his neck and watching the exposed muscles on his biceps, pulling taut and releasing like a bunch of rubber bands.

It was what all people looked like on the inside… And before Aimee knew what she was doing, her hesitant hand slowly stretched out as she gripped his bicep and began to finger along one of the muscles stretching there. It went tense, and rock solid, the moment her hand came into contact. Charon craned his head to look back at her with strict question in his eyes.

Trying to remain cool about the whole thing, she gripped his shoulder with a small smile and gently placed the package into his lap.

"This is for you." She spoke quietly, trying not to let out a chuckle as Charon looked up at her then back down at the package like a confused child.

"What is it?" He asked, folding his arms over his chest as if refusing to take it.

"You'll have to open it and find out." She laughed, turning to walk away when his hand jolted out and latched onto her wrist. She turned back over her shoulder to see that he was still staring down at the package with a puzzled expression.

"I can't accept this."

_Um… Ouch?_ "Why not?"

"I've already explained to you that I do not obtain payment of any kind for my services."

"It's a gift, _not_ payment." Aimee smiled, coming back to him a step or two as he still had his grip on her wrist. "You know, those cute little things people give to each other because they _feel _like it or because they wanna say "_thanks for saving my ass a bazillion times?_"

Charon shot her a warning look.

"I told you, back at the Museum of Technology when we were retrieving Three Dog's relay dish that I was going to get you a present- so, here it is. It's like all the times I got you shells for your gun, or helped fix up your armor for you."

"Those were necessities if you'd like me to keep protecting you. _This_ is something else."

She said nothing and gave him a loving pat on the shoulder as she leaned over and plucked up the package and put it into his hands, turning to the kitchen. "I was thinking about cooking some of that Brahmin steak to cut up and put in the noodles. It might be interesting- Jenny suggested it to me and I thought it'd be something nice to experiment with. Of course, I'm going to have to take it down to the Brass Lantern to get it cooked as we don't have a stove… What do you think?"

When she didn't receive an answer, she turned around to find that Charon was standing right behind her. She squeaked out a noise of surprise and stumbled back to have him grab her gently by the arms and bring her back to stable footing.

"Se- _Seriously _you gotta stop sneaking up on me like that!" She breathed an even sigh, looking up at him. "You're gonna scare me into a heart attack one of these days…"

"Where did you find this?" He asked, motioning to the package on the table. It was ripped open slightly, revealing what lay inside enough to recognize what it was.

Aimee looked up at him with an inquisitive grin. "A magician _never_ reveals her tricks! I might have to kill you if you ever found out the secret of my success."

"The caravans?"

"…Why'd you ask me if you already knew?" She frowned a little.

Charon shifted uncomfortably on the spot- well, all that _really_ happened was the muscle in his neck twitching like crazy, but for her big ghoulish bodyguard it was the equivalent to uncomfortably shifting on the spot.

"Is something wrong?" A panicked thought struck her heart like a hammer to a bent nail- _he doesn't like it!_

He remained quiet as he turned back to the package and picked it up, turning to the stairs to climb up them.

"Ch- Charon?..." She called again as she walked to the base of the stairwell, watching him linger in the doorway of his bedroom, looking down at the package with a calculating look in his eyes. _Oh my God, he didn't like it! He doesn't like it! He's going to yell at me! He's going to keep calling me "Mistress" and then he's going to get mad and leave and- and- __**and-!**_

"Thank you, Glowworm…" He finally spoke, and she could have _sworn_ she saw a twitch come to the corner of his mouth. A _happy_ twitch! Oh my God, he said her nickname! She could die happy now!

If it wasn't for the confused and contemplative look he suddenly wore that took away the happy twitch…

Aimee felt something tug on her heart and she clamped a hand against her chest as she stared up at Charon when realization hit her like a frag grenade.

"Charon... When was the last time you got a present from _anybody?_"

The corners of his chapped mouth twitched again, unhappily this time, with the familiar muscle in his neck, as he disappeared into his room- like a gliding ghost.

"From before the war," He answered as he shut the bedroom door behind him, leaving Aimee to her startled thoughts.

But the answer wasn't true. Yes, the last blue and true gift he had ever received was from before the war, and it was from Rose. The gift was that of her last words, giving him freedom in love- to live his life on his own and find someone else to love when she was long gone and six feet underground with a headstone naming her broken and diseased body. He always had that freedom at his disposal, but he never engaged in it and he never acted upon it. He felt no want of it when Rose haunted his every waking and sleeping moment. He kept her out of his heavily fortified mind for the past hundred-something years, but ever since coming across Aimee he couldn't help but think about her… They were a lot alike, more than he cared to admit and more than Aimee would ever know.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. If Aimee had been born back then, he could tell she and Rose would have been attached at the hip. Rose was intelligent, mature and quite witty; she was a compassionate human being and despised those who brought harm to others who didn't have the means to protect themselves. She'd give you the money you needed if you were desperate and would ask for nothing in return, and if she had nothing but the clothing on her back, well- she'd give you that instead. One of the reasons why he fell in love with her was because she was a much better person than he could ever be, and she was everything he wished he could see in himself. She knew of his flaws- his gluttonous acts, his selfishness, how he was a candle burning at both ends and had the anger to kill a man with one glance- she knew of it all and she still loved him unconditionally.

With all the women that chased him, she was the only one who caught his eye because she was different and because she was the only one he caught himself chasing. She was the only one he caught himself _wanting._

The _very _last gift he had truly received was a gift from this supposedly cruel universe- a blessing in the disguise of a young woman with wide grey eyes, deep chocolate curls, and was the height of a whopping four-foot-nine. She was immature for her age with a childish sense of humor, but she knew when to step up to the plate and she was a lot smarter than most of her actions indicated. She'd kill herself before harming another human being, and in this crazy world they lived in if there was only one Stimpak left she'd give it to you with a smile- even if _she _was the injured one.

The last gift Charon was ever given was Aimee, and he couldn't lie to himself. It may have been the greatest gift he ever received in a _very _long time- even if he didn't notice it until now.


	34. CHP 34: I Love You

Aimee pulled her house key from her pocket as she trampled up the metal walkway to her house, making a beeline for the front door to slide her key into the mouth of the lock. In her other hand was a small paper container, folded up into what Charon called a "take-out container." He said people used it before the war to take home left over food and stuff when they ate at restaurants, and Aimee was going to leave them where she found them in a crumbling high-end restaurant just off of D.C. but once hearing his explanation, she grabbed whatever "take-out containers" she could find and stuffed them in her bag. The little fold up boxes fascinated her for some reason… Maybe she could even drop a few for Jenny, see if she could make some extra caps? Of course she doubted anyone would need a "take-out container" when in the Wasteland, polishing off your plate is like a national sport- if you had food to polish off a plate, that is.

She pulled open the front door and walked in, placing the container on the table as she shut the door with a sweep of her foot in her wake. She kicked off her converse, neatly setting them by Charon's at the door, as she didn't like having dirt treaded into the house. She didn't mind getting dirty, but if given the tiniest sliver of a chance of keeping clean, she'd jump on it in a heartbeat of a second.

The kettle was just coming to a boil, it would shriek at any moment, but with how long it was taking she had to wonder if they'd need a new hot plate soon.

Aimee looked up to Charon's bedroom door through the convenient "hole" surrounded by railing that let you have a clear view through the ceiling and to the second floor. No noise came from beyond it, and she honestly had to wonder exactly just what on Earth he was doing that was taking so long. Before she walked out the door to get their Brahmin steaks cooked at the Brass Lantern, she told him she was leaving but he said nothing in return. Now that she was back, her entrance into the house with the squeaky open and then wall-trembling slam shut of the door was enough to accuse her presence, wasn't it? She didn't have to _announce _it, right?

"_From before the war,_" His raggedy voice with a hint of some sort of accent she couldn't quite place an origin to echoed in her puzzled mind. What enthralled her more so than the fact that he _finally _admitted to her after all their months of traveling that he was a Pre-War ghoul and opened up just a bit of himself to her, was that in 200 something years after his Pre-War existence did he not receive a _single _gift from _anyone. _She wondered what his last gift was and if he remembered what he was given… Well, he _should _have remembered if he remembered when he last got something nice. But she was told that ghouls who lived that long couldn't remember a lot from way back when because their lives were pretty much an ongoing, and torturous, marathon of blurred memories of faces and places, with names and dates of all sorts.

She wondered glumly if Charon would remember her when his contract was to be passed on, or if she died for some reason- the latter she highly doubted because she's witnessed his skill and was quite impressed by it, unless her clumsiness sent her tumbling off a hill and into the pit of a Yao Guai nest one of these days…

_Would he miss me if I was gone?_ She wondered, brushing her long bangs out of her eyes but kept her palm to the side of her forehead and gave a long sigh. She almost doubted that he would.

The kettle shrieking madly pulled her out of her daze with a jump out of her skin and a foot into the air. With an uneven huff of a groan, she turned to the kitchen and got a dry dish towel. She then turned back to the boiling kettle and plucked it up from the hot plate, folding up the dish towel several times over as the kettle stopped hissing and she placed it on the towel on the table to let it cool a bit.

Maybe he was just staring at the gift he gave her, not exactly sure what to do with it?... Well, it wasn't exactly brain surgery or rocket science when it came to what she had gotten him.

Aimee smiled a little to himself, thinking about the slight happy twitch that came to the corners of his mouth. It wasn't enough to be a smile, or even one of those amused smirks he gave when she tripped over her words or _literally _tripped over something, but in her book it was like getting a grin from a Deathclaw- which was almost appropriate because the guy could be as threatening as one of those overgrown lizards at times…

She picked up one of the Styrofoam containers of noodles and pulled on the tab of the label to peel it from the mouth of the bowl. It didn't give a tug, and she heaved a vague noise of frustration. These were always a bitch for her to open, it was like someone _super glued_ the damn thing closed! Charon would have to open it for her, as he often did- with one of those amused _smirks_ of his.

So as she turned around to yell up the stairs for him to come help her open the packaging, she stopped with her jaw dropping to the floor and her eyes popping out of their sockets to follow after her poor jaw. Charon stood at the bottom of the staircase, wearing the present she gave him.

The present was a Pre-War suit- not one of those business type suits, like Mr. Burke had worn when she first met the man, but it reminded her of the outfits some shady characters wore in some old movies she found back in the vault and watched when she was a kid. Only later did she come to find out that they were _home movies_, and the men in them wearing the fancy suits were referred to as "gangsters." In the movie, it was just a bunch of men wearing the same outfit in different patterns and colors sitting at a table and immersing themselves in a game of cards as a woman in the background, who was assumed to be working the camera, lavished over one of the handsomer men. Aimee assumed that the man was either her lover or her crush- somehow involved with her romantically.

Charon was wearing baggy black slacks with silver pinstripes stretching down from the waistband to his socked feet vertically. A white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows was worn underneath a snug black vest with a scarlet red tie tucked underneath it neatly. A black fedora rested on his head as a black overcoat with vertical pinstripes in silver matching the pattern on his pants fumbled in his hands by the collar, almost as if he was unsure of what to do with it. He turned his head to the side, and she saw the playing card sticking out of the band of his fedora- an ace of hearts.

She could see the look in his eyes, as if asking for an opinion before he actually spoke it out loud. But she couldn't understand why he looked so- _nervous._ Standing before him in that outfit, he looked as comfortable as she had ever seen him. It was like the outfit was _meant_ for him, and in the apple of his eyes, she saw a glint that she had never seen before that tugged on her heartstrings and made her chest swell.

"Well?" He asked when all she did was gawk at him.

Aimee could barely utter a sound before the packaged noodle bowl in her hands seemed to explode as she unconsciously tugged on the tab too hard, showering pieces of dried and packaged noodles around her feet. It surprised her to the degree that she took a step back and roughly slammed into the foldout table, rocking it enough where the steaming hot kettle of boiling water went tumbling over the side and crashed onto the floor with another loud noise. Steam began to escape the metallic spout as hot water gushed out onto the floor, and with a surprised squeak, she hopped up onto Charon's chair while hugging her knees to her chest as she watched the water roll and river under her and seep into some of the floor's cracks.

Charon gave an amused, and maybe slightly irritated, sigh at the mess she made, thumbing the overcoat in his possession.

Still hugging her knees to her chest, she looked up at him with a shy smile and furious blush across her nose to blossom in her cheeks like rose petals.

"U- Uhm…So- Sorry… You, by any chance, _didn't_ see any of that… Right?" She asked with an awkward giggle and a hopeful crook in her smile.

"Not a thing." He shook his head slightly as he neatly laid the overcoat on the bookcase at his side. He walked over, careful to step over the hot water, and grabbed the dishrag Aimee used as a hot-pad for the kettle to soak up the mess.

Aimee caught on and jumped off his chair, bolting to the kitchen to come back with more dishrags. She then tackled the task of picking up the bigger pieces of packaged noodles into her cupped hands, putting it back into the bowl to dispose it in the garbage. She wasn't going to eat it and risk getting sick from whatever filth lined her floor, as clean and spotless as she tried to make it!

She soon came back from the trash can in the kitchen with two more dry rags. She handed one to Charon, tossing the one she had onto her shoulder as she picked up the sopping wet dishrags from the floor and guided them to the sink to wring them out later. She came back to find the ghoul crouched down and wiping up the mess in a slightly awkward position which made her smile. He didn't want to kneel and dirty his new suit… Maybe he _did_ like it- more than his words, as little as he used already, could say. The thought made her smile as she got to her own knees and began to dry the floor with her shouldered rag.

After moving her cloth in swooping circles, once in a while snagging it on a loose bolt or uneven slab in the floor did Aimee's hand smack into Charon's hand with a _thunk._ She stopped to look up at him but he went on about his cleaning like nothing happened. When she cleared her throat did he stop to look up at her.

"D- Do you-… _like it?_" She asked hesitantly, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

A thoughtful glance seemed to pass over his face before he gave a subtle nod of his head.

Aimee smiled and sighed with relief. "That's _great._ I was so worried that you wouldn't! And then I worried about sizing, and color and-" She rambled on before he interrupted her.

"Why go through the trouble?"

"-how to get it- _what?_" She gawked at him. "Go through the trouble of getting you a suit?"

"Enduring the trouble of looking for a gift for me _at all._" He clarified, sitting back on his haunches with his arms draped over his knees.

She pouted. "Can't you just be happy?"

"Don't avoid my question."

Aimee cringed a little and sighed, sitting back on the floor to wring the cloth in her hands.

"I- I went through the trouble because, well-… Because I'm _sorry._" She spoke quietly, looking up into his piercing cold eyes so he knew she was being truthful. "I'm sorry about the kiss, back in Springvale- but _damnit Charon_ how was _I __**supposed**__ to know _that wasn't what you wanted? How was I supposed to know when you wouldn't talk to me?" Her brows furrowed together. "Are you jealous of Dalton, or something?"

He didn't even flinch when she asked that, almost as if he expected hearing it sooner or later.

"No. I am not jealous of Knight Captain Colvin."

"You seemed pretty irked when he was around…"

"Many people "irk" me, mistress. All of the Brotherhood of Steel is included."

"See? _Right there!_" She cried out, throwing her hands up in the air and then pointed at him. "Stop doing that! Stop calling me mistress! Do you know how much it _hurts_ to hear that again when I feel like I've _just _gotten your trust and your friendship? Every time I hear you say it, all it does is remind me of how much of an idiot I was and I _never_ meant to offend you or hurt your feelings! I just-…" She looked down at the wrung cloth in her hands, twisted around her palm tightly and she put it down into her lap. "I- _I'm sorry... _I am _so _sorry..."

"...I apologize, Aimee." Charon spoke, getting up to sit in the chair at her side so he wouldn't have to crouch any longer.

"Are you saying that because you're sorry about something you _didn't_ do, or because you think it's the right thing to say?..."

"I am saying it because I _did_ do something that I must apologize for. You say I hurt you by using a formal addressing, therefore I am apologizing for my actions."

Aimee sighed, shifting to her knees to go towards him and she folded her arms onto his lap, resting her head in its cradle as she looked up at him.

"W- Well… There's more."

Charon shot her an inquisitive glint of his hard eyes, but said nothing so she could continue without his interruption.

"You said that stuff like that is only meant for-… well, for people in _love._ You told me that it was inappropriate for us to do stuff like kissing, and I'm assuming it's because of our contract."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Aimee was quicker as she pressed a lone finger to his cracked lips to silence him as she went on.

"I thought about it, and I realized that I-… I _do_ love you Charon." She gave a soft smile as her hand went from his cracked lips to his damaged cheek. "Now before you get all _freaked out_ and run for the hills," She joked with a light giggle. "I may not love you like, well- like two people in love that wanna get married and have a baby or whatever, but I love you like a dear friend. You're my _only _friend, and I feel like I can share something with you that I've never been able to share with other people. I feel so comfortable around you- like I'm not the Lone Wanderer, like I'm not the Heroine in this story to these poor people, and it's like you can see right through me…"

Her thumb wavered back and forth over his cheek, causing her smile to deepen.

"It's like you can see that there's still a person in here, and _that's_ what you take interest in. I feel like I've known you for a very long time… And this is why I love you, Charon. Because you see _me…_ And I love you because if it weren't for you, I'd be lying dead in a ditch somewhere with the dogs picking over my fly-buzzing carcass."

"You are quite the capable fighter. You do not need my aid." Charon complimented, and it caused a silly grin to break out onto her face.

"Yeah, but I'm oblivious to what I should be paying the most attention to. Haven't you noticed?"

"Like with the slaver group on our way here?"

"...Yeah…"

"And the Molerat on our way back from D.C.?"

"I _swear_ that thing snuck up on me so it could hump my leg!"

"And what about that drugged up Raider with the baseball bat that tried to-"

"Alright, _alright!_ What is this, "_Pick on Aimee Day?_" She laughed, removing her hand from his cheek as she lifted her head up in his lap. "What the hell is a piñata, anyways?"

"It's a festive case of sorts that has candy or other things in it like small toys. Kids usually break them open with bats at birthday parties." He answered.

She cringed. "Nice to know I'm a "festive case" filled with "candy or other things like small toys,"

"Not the strangest thing we've seen out there."

Aimee smiled as if he was giving her a challenge. "There's always more to see… But that can wait until after we've found dad." She looked up at him. "So-… Are we cool?"

He nodded. "I suppose so."

After a brief moment of silence, he clapped a hand down on her head and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. The gesture felt similar to administering a nice pat on the back but he- was he… _petting her?_

The gesture made her blink, as it was not unkind- it felt _endearing-_ but she didn't remember the last time Charon initiated things like this. _Touching,_ really, if he ever initiated _anything_ considering the fact that he always followed what she asked him to do to the letter. And being so kind with his touch too, as if she were deliciously fragile, and would break…

She didn't know someone could be so- _gentle._

She didn't know someone so big could be so gentle.

Aimee didn't know that Charon could be so… _gentle__._

She smiled and leaned up into his palm encouragingly, letting her eyelids flutter closed as a soft coo escaped her lips. He almost pulled back, as if the sound meant that he was hurting her or making her feel uncomfortable, but when she opened her eyes and flashed them up to meet his own, it seemed his internal conflict settled into the dust and he continued petting her head- stroking over her chocolate curls with what felt like a skilled hand.

"You know what, Char-bear?" _God_ how it felt so good to call him that again. Aimee couldn't help but let out a giddy giggle before hoisting herself up to her feet in front of him. She caught a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes, but when she blinked it was gone. She didn't even know if she had truly seen it in the _first place._

"What is it, Glowworm?"

Aimee fixed his tie tucked under his vest, straightening it out with another giddy and airy giggle as she straightened out the wrinkles in the article of clothing by running her hands straight down his torso to his midsection. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and turned away to the kitchen to finish cleaning.

"You give pinstripes justice."


	35. CHP 35: A Pep Talk From Char bear

**A/N: HEY EVERYOOOOONE! Alright, so lemme explain why I'm posting this chapter early...**

**I was looking at all the "traffic stats" for my stories, and found that _this story has been viewed 10,000 TIMES!_**

**I was SO stunned to find that so many people have read this story that I wanted to do a "thank you" for all my readers by posting chapters for all my ongoing stories as a sort of celebration! Lucky you, guys ;3!**

**So I hope you guys enjoy the newest chapter of Aimee's adventure!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee sat in the middle of the floor of her Megaton home, loading up her backpack with everything she would need. Food, clothing, extra ammo, and some spare parts for Patience. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the book with the lilac cover that Dalton had given her, and she picked it up. She read through a bit of it, picking up that it was not only a romance, but a fairy-tale too between a beautiful young woman and a very angry beast.<p>

I wonder if Charon has ever read this?... She thought with a tilt of her head and a small smile. Charon, reading romance novels? She snorted at the thought- he probably read books such as **Duck and Cover** or **U.S. Army: 30 Handy Flamethrower Recipes**. Manly reads like that.

As if the ghoul could read her thoughts, and knew that she was inwardly laughing at him, he came down the stairs with his pack slung over his shoulder. He stopped at the bottom when he saw her and the tiny small of amusement she wore, and thumbed the strap of his pack.

"You're up early." He commented, staring straight down at her.

"As are you," She giggled, cinching her bag shut and picked it up. She walked to the kitchen and pulled out a few medical supplies from the toolbox to put into the empty pockets of her bag. "You ready to head out?"

"If you are, than I most certainly am." He nodded, but did not move until she made her way to the door.

"I've got the route all planned out for Rivet City." She smiled as she locked the door and they began making their way to the town's exit. "We go pass Grandma Sparkles' place and cross to the Tepid Sewers. It is a beached aircraft carrier, and I figured it'd be in water- so if we follow the river we should make it there in no time!" She clapped her hands together, rubbing them back and forth with a rasping noise as if she had spent a great amount of time concocting their route.

"Raider camps are dotted along the banks," He pointed out, glancing her way.

"Exactly. Raiders aren't a problem- but if we run into Mirelurks?" She waved off the rest of the thought. "Fuck, you're on your _own! Hate_ those things with their claws and their shells and their-... _claws_..." She gave a shuddering cringe as she lifted her hands up and crooked her fingers into her palms, imitating the snapping limbs of the oversized seafood dishes.

Charon eyed her warily, and she giggled as she tugged back the metal door, letting in a harsh and dry breeze from the barren Wasteland played out before them. He stopped his staring long enough to help her with a single hand, pushing it back entirely with relative ease and almost making her fall into the dirt. She shot him a dirty look, but couldn't withhold any seriousness in it because her broad smile failed her.

"Anyways," She shook her head as they exited and then spun on her heel to wave up to Stockholm as he tugged the door closed. "I know there are a few Raider camps along the river- if we clear 'em out and keep to ourselves, it'd give us a nice hideout to rest at before going on, don't you think?"

She could see it written in his face. He thought it was a terrible idea, why risk running into Raiders at all just to steal their camp? She hugged his arm as they began to walk, the dirt shifting in little tornados around their clapping feet.

"Besides, I have _you_ here to take care of me, after all!" She added on quickly when she saw his disapproval. She then laughed at how he tensed and shifted his gaze away when her statement sunk in.

"What about the Metro tunnels?" He spoke up after some time.

"Huh?" She glanced up at him. "Metro tunnels?"

"We go through the Metro. The most we will encounter are the feral ghouls and a few radroaches. They would be easier to take down than a raider party- we stick to the shadows and gun them down before they even know we're there. The map on your Pip-Boy shows that there is a Metro station not too far from Rivet City, which is also quite convenient. Plain and simple, Glowworm."

Aimee smiled up at him. A broad, silly grin that stretched from ear to ear. Her face should have hurt by now with all the smiling she had been doing lately.

"Alright, alright- I give. I like your plan better. We still get the hideout we need and not a lot of people go down there because of the ferals… Plus, they're easy pickings if they don't see us first. It's too damn dark down there, as is…" She gave a sigh. "Great- a major klutz in the dark surrounded by a bunch of ferals. _This should be good._"

Suddenly, something buzzed in on her Pip-Boy, and she looked down to it with Charon peeking over her shoulder curiously. She tuned it up to hear Three Dog blasting his radio station.

"_**Well, now that Ole' Three Dog has depressed you to the point where you just wanna be eaten alive by radroaches… How 'bout some music? Here's one of my personal favorites! Enjoy kiddies, cause GNR is singin' it up loud and **_**prooooooud!**"

"That DJ is going to get you killed with how much he talks about you," Charon stated, bobbing his head up to look around. "I don't understand how he seems to have eyes on you 24/7."

"_You_ most certainly have your eyes on me 24/7." She answered cheekily. He gave a shallow sigh of disappointment and shook his head.

"That's different. I'm _with_ you all the time- if I see any of his scouting parties they're going to go running back to him without any arms."

She laughed again. "Well, if you cut off their legs there's not going to be a lot of scouting for them to do anymore."

"Even better. If I end up shooting one of them, it's not my fault."

"Of _course_ it isn't, Char-bear."

Suddenly, the song "Happy Times" by Bob Crosby began to play, and Aimee squealed with delight, turning up the volume knob on her Pip-Boy and hoisted the device up to Charon's face, almost knocking him in the jaw with it.

"Look, Char-bear! It's our song!"

_Our song?_ Charon thought with a cock of his head and folded his arms over his broad chest. She could see the thought hanging in his eyes, because her smile seemed to falter for a second.

"You remember, don't you? When we got the relay dish back to Three Dog he played this song for us… Is it alright if I call it our song? It seems appropriate."

"How so?"

"Well, because he played it for us… It was the first thing I heard when I actually woke up completely." She smiled and looked up to the blue-grey sky above them. "It makes me feel like I'm not all alone and that there's still hope even when you're all the way at the bottom and looking up at the sky… It's how I feel when I'm with you, out here, and you're watching my back… You always seem to remind me that no matter how bad it gets it is not the end- not unless I let it."

He watched her with intrigue bubbling in his chest as she turned up the volume on her Pip-Boy even louder, and began to sing along with the tune- letting her voice melt into that of the male singer's. She wasn't a very good singer by any means, as her voice cracked and strained on a few notes, but Charon somehow found a strange comfort in her fretful noises.

"_So wish on the moon, and someday- it may be tomorrow- you will suddenly hear chimes. And you'll have your happy, happy time_."

"Aimee," He called, interrupting her little concert, and she snapped her eyes to him curiously. "Are you _trying _to alert everything within a mile radius of us?"

She stuck her stubby pink tongue out at him in retaliation.

"Keep doing that and you're going to lose your tongue- or your face is going to get stuck like that."

She immediately slurped her tongue back into her mouth. "Who are you_, my father?_"

"No," He sighed. "But sometimes I wonder if I'm more of a babysitter than a bodyguard for you."

"Maybe I just like my men big and strong," She grinned at the nervous twitch in his neck and looked forward once again as she lowered the volume a smidge, but continued to sing.

"_So wish on the moon, and someday- it may be tomorrow- you will suddenly hear chimes. And you'll have your happy, ha- __**GAH!**_" She cried out as she tripped over a dip in the road and fell flat on her side to land on her elbow, hitting her Pip-Boy on a nearby rock. "_Fuckin' __**OW!**_"

Charon immediately rushed over to help her up when her Pip-Boy began playing a different tune the moment it connected with the rock. It was no longer Bob Crosby singing about happy times after rain drizzles, but it was a robotic voice- calling for help.

"**This is an automated distress message from… Vault-Tec: Vault 101.**"

Aimee's eyes widened in pure fear and her body began to shake as she rolled onto her back, holding up her Pip-Boy to stare at the radio interface. Charon stared at her with hardened eyes, sticking his hand out to help her up but she waved it away. He knew that look on her face all too well- it was like when she just got his contract and she admitted to him that she was afraid of the dark. She looked petrified as the robotic voice continued to drawl.

"**Message begins…**_** It feels like you left home a long time ago, but damnit Aimee- I **_**know **_**you're out there **_**somewhere!**_** I **_**know **_**you're alive because you're too damn stubborn to roll over like that on me!**_"

Her breath looked like it had caught in her throat as she took a jagged inhale at the sound of her once-best friend's voice asking for her personally. She dragged herself to the rock that she smacked her Pip-Boy against and sat on top of it as she stared down at it. Charon stepped forward, towering over her with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"_**Things got worse- after you left…**_" There was a small, sad chuckle. "_**And **_**right **_**when we thought it couldn't have gotten worse after that day. I don't know if you've found your dad or not, but please, stop looking for him - we need you to come back and **_**help**_** us!**_"

Aimee looked up to Charon with a teary glint in her eyes, silently asking what she should do while Amata's voice continued to linger in the still air around them. He came over and sat at her side in the dirt with his knees hiked up and his arms draped over them, staring at her Pip-Boy. She gave a pathetic sigh and continued to listen to the signal.

"_**I changed the door password to my name. If you're hearing this, and somehow, I **_**know**_** you are… Help us. **_**My **_**dad, he-… Just come back and help us… We need you. I-… **_**I **_**need you. **_**I need you,**_** MeeMee… **_**Message repeats…**"

As Amata's desperate message began to loop over, Aimee turned off the radio interface to keep from having to hear the pain in her friend's voice. With a shallow sigh, she held her head in her hands with her unruly curls dripping through her fingers, her bangs overhanging her eyes like the dark rain cloud hovering above her head.

"…Sounds like they need you." Charon finally spoke, looking up at her.

"Doesn't everyone out in this damn place?..." She murmured, removing her hands from the sides of her head to smother her face into them.

"They aren't out here." He pointed out, looking up at Megaton. Stockholm was watching them- he probably saw Aimee slip and was wondering what was happening now. "Whatever is going on down there, they don't have a "Heroine of the Wastes" to protect them from whatever is going on down there."

Something he said must have struck a chord with her, because she immediately whipped her face out of her hands to gawk at him with wide, teary eyes. "Ch- Char-bear…?"

"You can't ask me what you should do." He answered firmly, already feeling as if he knew what she was going to ask. "They are asking for _your _help, not _mine._"

"That's just it! I-… I _don't _know if I want to help them… I think I don't." She gazed straight ahead, hand lingering on one knee with the other patting her thigh, drumming her fingertips against the soft flesh.

"Aimee." She ignored him. "Aimee _look_ at me." He demanded, but she shook her head in refusal. He gave an irritated huff and clambered up from the dirt, clasping a gentle hand under her jaw, forcing her to look up into his stony face.

"Someone I knew a very long time ago told me something I'll never forget. To this day, I remember what she said _exactly-_ word for word."

Her ears seemed to perk up at what he said. She was listening now. "You mean- someone you knew… before the war?"

He nodded in confirmation. "When things got rough, she always said _"The right thing isn't always the easiest thing- but that is what makes the reward so much more worthwhile." _What do _you_ think is the right thing to do?"

"…To help them." She answered meekly, staring up into his eyes.

"Is it just what you _think,_ or what you _feel_ is the right thing to do?"

Aimee smiled- not the goofy, full-blown grin she'd been wearing since yesterday, and not a smirk either- a warm, soft, _genuine_ smile. She moved one of her hands upon his cheek with her palm cupping and her fingers curling to his broad jaw and pronounced cheekbones. Under the ravaged flesh, she knew he had magnificent bone structure. She would love to draw him one day. She stroked her thumb over the roughness of his cheek, dropping her hand to wrap both arms around his waist and press herself to him in a tight hug she knew he wouldn't return. She buried her face against his chest with her eyes closed, nose twitching in his scent with her smile deepening.

"What are you going to do?" Charon asked.

Her words became muffled against his armor.

"What?" He spoke with a slight crinkle of his brow, placing his hands on his shoulders to pull her back so he could hear her.

"I said; Amata was the one who helped me escape… She was the one on the emergency message."

"Amata is your best friend, correct?"

"You're never one to skimp on the details," She smiled with her arms still wrapped around him and glanced up so her chin was pressed into his chest. "Nice to know you listen to my babbling."

"If she is your friend, then why are we not making our way to the Vault right now to aid her?"

Aimee took a moment to blink with thought before a smirk tugged on her lips.

"I was waiting on you."

"_Sure_ you were…" He gave a gentle roll of his eyes and pried her off him as she gave out a gentle bout of laughter. They collected their belongings and began to head up the road forking away from their planned route to Rivet City, heading straight towards Vault 101.

"I guess it wouldn't be like me to leave her like that- after what she did to help me…" Aimee finally spoke up after a long while of walking in silence. She shoved her hands into her cargo pockets, glancing up to him.

"That it wouldn't be," Charon agreed with a nod as the creaky wooden door leading into the cavern of Vault 101's entrance came into view over the hill, up a path to a plateau that worked as a scenic overlook.

"I wonder what everyone's been doing since I've been gone?"

"Not cleaning house, that much is obvious." He kicked aside a skeleton in their path before stumbling onto another one and crushing in its ribcage under his boot. She cringed at the snapping noise, looking back to see the skeleton practically _obliterated_.

"I think the skeletons on their doorstep are going to be the _least_ of our problems… Oh, and remind me never to piss you off."


	36. CHP 36: I'm Coming Home

Aimee paced back and forth in front of the wooden door leading to Vault 101's cavern with her hands wringing themselves in front of her body, once in a while daring to sneak a peek at the still wooden door- darkness peeking out at her from between the boards like ominous slivers of something she would not expect coming. Charon could see the nervousness she carried, as it was riddled all over not only her face, but her _presence._

Charon gave a slightly cocky smirk and a tilt of his head. "What are your orders, _MeeMee?_"

She spun around faster than his eyes could follow to gawk at him.

"First of all, wipe that damned smirk off your face. Second of all, you are to call me Aimee or the nickname you picked out for me- which I love very much, by the way. And third of all- _oh, that feels weird to say_… You are to stay out here."

He gave a soft frown and a barely noticeable quip in his brow. "Whatever for?"

"Everyone in there aren't used to-… _well,_" She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly as if it had grown stiff, flicking a hand out to him with her palm facing up and her fingers crooked. "_You._"

"You mean a walking, living and breathing corpse?"

She cringed at his words. "Char-bear…"

"I know you don't wish to say it, but it is what you think and I know." She could sense the hurt in his eyes.

"It's not like that, Charon." She spoke firmly, looking back at him with her hands on her broad hips. "As far as the people down _there_ know, this place is a hellhole of radiation. Inhabitable, but a hellhole none the less. They don't know what's up here, and I don't want them freaking out or something…"

"…It would be best." He finally growled out reluctantly, eyes darting away from her.

"Thank you," She gave an airy sigh of relief as a small smile crept into her lips.

"But I _completely _disagree with having to stay here while you go in alone."

The smile looked as if it had been smacked off her face. "_What?_ Wha- _why?_"

"You said that the "party" they threw you when you departed wasn't exactly…_heartwarming._" His tone suddenly sounded as if it were laced with barbed wire upon the last word. "What makes you think the welcoming committee is going to be any better?"

Aimee sighed, running her fingers through her curls. They felt longer than they should have, stopping a little before her shoulders and her bangs were still in her eyes… If Butch had gotten any good at _hairdressing,_ maybe she could ask for a trim- if he didn't skip his lessons like he bragged that he did when they were younger.

_No- I'm not taking the chance. __**Then**__ I really __**will**__ have to kill something…_

"Charon, I don't want them freaking out if they see you. It's the _last_ thing I need…" She walked over to him, where he was perched on a rock with his arms folded over his chest. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You said before that they get mad at things they don't understand, right?"

"Don't use my words against me." He tilted his head back a little, as if trying to get a better look at her. "But… It's plausible that they will not understand what I am and become terrified…"

"Well, I meant more of our relationship." She shrugged, sitting on a smaller rock next to him and folded her legs up in front of her, tucking her hands underneath to keep them from slipping off the rock as she looked up to her big ghoul.

"Our relationship? Me being your bodyguard?"

"No, not that- I meant the fact that I consider you as one of my closest friends. Closer than Amata, and I've known her since I was a baby." The statement made the muscle in his neck twitch, and she realized that with the comparison she made to someone she _also_ called a good friend, something must have clicked in his head- causing him to see just how much he meant to her. "And I don't want someone shooting at you _because_ they're scared of you… Not my fault you've got that "I'm gonna paint the walls with your blood" air going on about you. I wouldn't put it past you if someone laid a hand on me- I've seen you actually _do_ it before…"

"So you admit that someone in there will attempt to hurt you?" Charon asked for change of subject.

"I never said they wouldn't _try-_ almost a year later, they've still gotta have some bumps and bruises from back then after I was done with them, and maybe a sour grudge or two. I have to imagine that _some_ of them won't be too happy with my _mysterious _return."

"I'm coming with you," He spoke as he stood up.

"Oh, _no_, you _so_ aren't going in there with me!"

He looked back at her and gave a simple blink as he pulled the shotgun from his back, cocking it- almost as if it would get his point across loud and clear.

"I said _no,_ Char-bear!" She got up and strode towards him, pushing his weapon down to look up into his eyes with all the seriousness she could muster into her neutral orbs. "Haven't you been listening? I _don't_ want you getting hurt because those jerk-offs are mad at me!"

"I believe they'd be trying to hurt me more so because they believe zombies roam the outside world and have come to eat their brains opposed to _your return_." He pointed out, keeping his shotgun in hand.

Aimee sighed, moving her hands away and pointed to the rock he was once perched on with the other on her broad hip firmly.

"_Sit down _and _**stop**__ whining._"

He opened his mouth to talk, but stopped when she jabbed her sharp finger at the abandoned rock again as if her were a small child being punished.

"Char-bear, please…" Her voice and face softened. "I don't want to order you to."

"Why not? You have my contract."

"That doesn't _mean_ that I have the right to boss you around!"

"It entitles you to that right _exactly._"

"If I am your employer, than that means that I am responsible for your wellbeing, and if looking out for your wellbeing means telling you to sit on a rock like a lump to keep you from being shot at then I _will_ tell you to sit on a fucking rock like the grumpy lump that you are!"

Charon could see the anger flaring in her eyes. So without further ado, and a few grumbles under his breath, his shotgun was clipped to the straps on his back as he ambled over to the rock and plopped down, placing an elbow on one knee to cradle the corner of his jaw in his upturned palm.

Aimee gave a sad sigh and walked over to him, picking up his free hand from his lap to get his attention as she held it in both of hers.

"I promise I'll come back to you _unharmed,_ alright? If any of them mess with me they'll either get a knee to the family jewels or an elbow to the ovaries- sound good enough?"

He glanced up at her, removing his jaw from his cradling palm then looked down at his large hand intertwined in both of hers. She looked so small in comparison to him- yes, she was just _small_ in general, but never had she looked so petite then when she was standing at his side… And the softness of her pale, porcelain-like digits wrapped over his ruined paw of red flesh and decrepit muscle made something in him twitch. It felt like a switch clicked upright in his head, telling him that this was familiar somehow. But long ago when he still had skin, matching that of the hands that once held his.

"And if you come back injured, or do not come back at _all-?_" He asked with his voice trailing off.

"I will- _uhm…_" She tapped her chin in thought. "What do you want?"

"For you to come back unharmed- or for me to go in with you in the first place to _keep_ you from getting hurt would be nice, too." She caught the snarky sarcasm in his voice.

"Shuddup." Aimee gave a sigh. "We'll think of something. But I highly doubt we'll need to because I'll be totally _fine! _Now, stay here and I'll be back in… I don't know, actually. To be safe, let's say a few hours."

"As you wish." Charon finally spoke, giving a nod. "Do what needs to be done and get _back_ here in one piece. I'd like to have something more than a body part for Doc Church to examine."

She shot him a nasty look over her shoulder as she went to the wooden door, trying not to jump at how loudly it shrieked when it came open.

"Nice to know you have some faith in me, Char-bear…" Her face softened. "Why don't you head back to Megaton, and I'll go home when I'm finished up here."

"Is that an order or a statement?"

"Uh- a friendly suggestion, more like it…" She furrowed her brows together.

"I prefer to wait here for your return."

Aimee gave a nod and a little wave of a goodbye as she entered the cavern and the door creaked shut behind her- letting a menacing slam rebound around her, reaching down the stuffy tunnel. She took a hard swallow as she stepped forward, glancing around at every rock and rolling wall surface as if it were new for her. It wasn't, but it felt like she hadn't stepped into this place in a _million_ years let alone only one- and barely a year at that. It would be in a couple of months, though, she had to remind herself.

She stopped with wide eyes up at the giant steel door played before her- looking like an enormous cog wheel. She averted her eyes to the console at her side where a red blinking light flashed at her. Not wanting to waste any time, her fingers clicked across the keys before her mind could register that they were moving on their own- but the letters being clicked rattled around in her skull as the keys were pushed down.

_**A-M-A-T-A…**_

The klaxon siren began to sound off and she clamped her hands over her ears, immediately wishing she could crumple to her knees or maybe run back outside to Charon and possibly cry. A whole mess of images, noises, faces, and voices seemed to sweep over her in never-ending wave after rough wave.

_Amata frantically trying to help me escape, outlining her plan while using a lot of sweeping hand motions with her voice cracking over every few words through her tears. I had barely listened to any of it- my mind kept wandering off to dad's smiling face, telling me that I had done a good job on a drawing I had done of Andy __**just**__ the night before and he sent me to bed with a hug and kiss on the forehead. He was as normal as could be. Or maybe he wasn't, and I just didn't notice?…_

_A wooden bat in hand, heavy and smeared with crimson as it skidded along the floor behind me... I stumbled down a long metal hall, my free hand dragging along the wall to leave a streak of waning red in my wake. I took a moment to look over my shoulder and stare at Officer Kendall's battered body before violently heaving whatever I had in her stomach against the wall and on the floor. Some of it got into my hair, I recall._

_Smashing radroaches- so little in that small room but so many __**more**__ outside… Ellen DeLoria shrieking like a banshee, curled up in a ball at my feet while Butch stood in the doorway, gawking as if I had grown another head. He tossed me his Tunnel Snakes jacket without saying another word, helping his mother off the floor and taking her to the disheveled living room to give her a beer so she could calm down. He then turned to me and thanked me, before telling me to get the hell out because the guards could be there any minute now._

_I didn't know when or how, but I found Jonas with his limbs sprawled in different directions- some bent in funny angles with the bones jutting out from his dark skin, glasses askew on his face with his familiar lab coat stained red with his blood... I clung onto him, collapsed on the floor with him sprawled across my lap, crying and weeping because he was like a big brother to me... He was the brother I always wanted... Something was poking out of his coat pocket- I took it, slipping it into my Pip-Boy with tears running down my cheeks. It was her dad's voice saying that he loved me, and Jonas advising he hurry in the background. I continued to weep as I plucked his broken glasses off his face- the wire rims were all bent out of shape, and one of the lenses was completely shattered with the glass sticking out in sharp shards all around his right eye, imbedded in his chocolate skin._

_Another hall, another corridor- so much blood- how much was radroach, how much was human, how much of it was even **mine**__**?**_

_Then I was suddenly staring down the barrel of a 10mm pistol, and the grinning face of the Overseer as I stood at the open mouth of the secret tunnel he had hiding under his desk. "I won." He mouthed as he shot me in the chest, right over my screaming heart, and I tumbled down the stairs, hitting my head on the last step. I laid at the bottom with my arm bending in a funny way like Jonas' and the wind knocked out of me. I gazed up at Alphonse one last time before he closed the tunnel on me, and I was suddenly shrouded in darkness with the pain ringing in me like a dinner bell. So I got up, gripping my shoulder and ran down the hall to the nearest exit._

_I opened the door, unable to cover my ears as well as I wanted when the siren began to blare because of my bad arm. Amata was suddenly at my side, shrieking and crying about my injured limb, but all I did was stare forward with more tears coming from my eyes. The door was __**right **__there. The door was __**right there,**__ only a few yards away and I couldn't get my __**fucking **__feet to move. But then, at the wooden door all the way at the opposite end of the tunnel, I saw __**it. **__**It**__ was streaming through the rotted boards, illuminating the disturbed particles that danced through the air with the wind billowing through the cracks of the door._

_**It**__ was sunlight. And sunlight looked pure- purer than anything she could imagine._

_I took a step forward. Then another, and another with Amata still yelling about my arm. I didn't listen because I didn't care- all I saw was light, and all I heard- or wanted to hear- was silence._

_But then another door opened behind us and two officers emerged, shooting at me. Amata was dragged out of sight, presumably back to her father as I broke out into a fevered run with my bat dragging behind me in the dirt by my good arm. They stopped shooting once my feet left the metal threshold of the Vault's gear-like door, and it slowly began to climb closed behind me._

_My bat clattered to the ground as I leapt forward at the very end of the tunnel._

_My mind barely acknowledged the clean prints of thick fingers on the door from someone who had used it recently, and prior to me shoving my injured shoulder into it to tumble outside._

_I lay sprawled across the ground like a butchered rag doll, taking gulping lungful after lungful of air- alternating between my mouth and nose once every few inhales so I could smell the dryness and then **taste** it._

_Aimee looked up at the sky-_

_**The first time I've ever seen sunlight…**_

_-blinding her with its purity and she knew right then-_

_**It burns… But I can't look away… I'll **_**never **_**look away…**_

_-that the sunlight was hers and __**no one**__ else's-_

**No one else's…**

She uncovered her ears once the siren stopped and the doorway was free, but she dare not enter. Not just yet. She stepped up onto the metal platform looming below the Vault's mouth, staring into what she thought would have been so familiar- and it was- it was her little hole in the ground, the place she grew up in, in shambles at her feet.

Sandbags created short walls, reaching about waist-high, to each side of the short stairwell in front of her that led up to the main door that led to the heart of the Vault. Fold out signs, white with bold red lettering were placed at each side as well with the painted messages demanding that the remaining Vault Dwellers keep away from the front room that led to the exit- unless they had a death wish. The room smelled rank with decayed flesh, and silence she expected to hear was no longer there with the quiet chitter of radroaches from somewhere in front of her and the rebounding silence of the long, narrow cavern behind her. Papers were tossed all over the dirty floor, and from the side of the sandbag wall on her left she saw blood splattered across the metal ground- a hand with curled fingers revealing itself while the rest of the body was hiding behind the sandbag wall, the stiff limb in sync with the splattered blood.

Aimee took a moment to look down at herself, lightly pulling back the collar of her shirt then tugging the sleeve down her shoulder. She gazed at the ravaged indent that peeked right over the cup of her ratty white bra. It looked like a suckered scar, lighter in color than her already pale skin and the sound of a 10mm pistol in the hands of an Overseer clicked in the back of her mind when she ran her fingertip over it.

If she hadn't been wearing the bulletproof vest she stripped off a dead guard and slipped it on under her suit, she would have died that day. She could only imagine Alphonse's anger upon hearing that she lived and successfully escaped, and now, he's probably sending a lovely "welcome home" package of a handful of guards to come meet her at the front gates of the Vault if he were watching the terminal screen that was connected to the camera staring down at her right now.

But no one stomped in to greet her, so she gave an airy sigh as she lightly fingered over the indent where the bullet from his 10mm pistol had impacted.

"Well…I'm coming home." Aimee said aloud as she removed her shaking fingers from the scar and made her first step over the threshold. Almost immediately after saying that false statement to herself, as the Capital Wasteland was her _real _home, a voice in the back of her head answered;

"_**And you're in hell."**_


	37. CHP 37: Oh Where Has Sweet Aimee Gone?

**A/N: ALRIGHT GUYS! Some of you MAY notice a bit of a change in our sweet little Aimee darling... She's got some claws on her in this chapter, and I hope some of you may find it a little refreshing- maybe even a little _shocking_- when some of you might be quite used to her being so sweet and innocent in all her Lone Wanderer nicey-niceness!**

**I actually kinda liked how this chapter came out. The next one's gonna be even _better_, though! I LIKE WRITING AIMEE'S WILD AND BITCHY SIDE- sue me =_="**

**Anywho- happy reading, happy writing- all that jazz and good stuff!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee turned the lock on the door that led to the main sector of Vault 101 with Elaine, her little 10mm SMG, removed from her holster and held down at her side. The cold metal contact against her thigh sent a jolt through her- not just because it was cold, but because it reminded her that it had been a while since she'd been out running-and-gunning. But it couldn't have been <em>that <em>long- could it?

She grimaced with thought as she tried to process when she last was outside of Megaton's walls. _Two weeks since I was last out in the Wasteland… Almost one full __**year **__since I was last in Vault 101. _The latter thought of her parts didn't make her too happy, and she shook her head with irritation.

With another sigh, she picked her feet up over the doorway and stepped through, gripping the door handle so she wouldn't lose her balance. Her feet clapped down on the other side and she continued on, stopping to glance up at the buzzing reactor- licking blue strikes at her with the familiar crackle as it lashed out. The room almost always smelled of tarnished metal and something burning from what she remembered as a child, and as she took a deep inhale to see if it smelled just as she recalled, her nostrils caught a faint fume of it. The smell of the Wasteland dust and the musky beaten leather scent of Charon clung to her, thickly slathered over the smell the reactor placed in the room so her nose could barely sense that it was there at all.

_I wish Char-bear were here…_ She frowned a little, looking down at the gun in her hand. _I feel so __**stupid**__ believing that I was strong enough to do this all on my own..._

Aimee shook her head clear of the thought.

_**No! **__I can __**do this!**__ I just need to clean the place up- get in, get out- hopefully fast enough to escape the welcoming party._

She gave a quick glance around the disheveled room.

_If there __**is**__ a welcoming party…_

"Well, first things first…" She murmured to herself, in hopes of getting herself back on track. "Find out what on _Earth _happened here."

"_Stop __**right **__there._" A voice hissed in her ear as a quick hand grabbed hers, the one that held Elaine, and maneuvered it so it was bent in- her fingertips grazing the underbelly of her arm. Her arm was then twisted around so her elbow was facing her assailant in an awkward angle. Elaine slipped from her grasp as another hand latched onto her jut out elbow, pushing down into it to riddle pain all up and down her arm. She fell to one knee, like a man would do if he were proposing to a woman- but with his arm sticking up like a ship's mast as it was in the iron grip of another man. The assailant's elbow was then pressed into her shoulder, keeping her in the knelt position she was in. She couldn't move her arm at all! It hurt too much.

_Damnit! _She cringed as the man applied more pressure to her shoulder, forcing his hand into her elbow a smidge and making her feel as if it would snap in half like a toothpick. _Great- only away from Charon for five __**freaking **__minutes and already I'm playing damsel. Fuck- what do I do?_

"I don't know how on _Earth_ you got in _here,_ but I'm gonna knock you on your arse and toss you back out _there!_" The harsh voice barked in her ear.

_Knock…_ _Knock-knock… _A broad grin spread on her face. _That's __**it!**_

"Uh- hey! Before you _do_ throw me back outside like I was a sack of garbage, Mr. High-And-Mighty-Get-The-Hell-Out-Of-My-Vault, wanna hear a joke?"

"And _no_ funny bus- _what?_"

Aimee twisted her chin to her shoulder, trying not to cringe again and show that it hurt. "Yeah, a joke. C'mon! It's really funny! I bet you haven't had a laugh for a while now, am I right?"

She couldn't see the man's face, hidden behind his helmet visor in the corner of her vision. She couldn't recognize the man's voice at all, either, as she searched through the databank of memory that went relatively untouched since she left the Vault. The Aimee that walked out of the Vault that day, almost one year ago, was an Aimee that was different from the Aimee that she was today. Back then, she aspired to be an artist with a pencil and paper. Now? She was an artist out in the Wasteland- a different _kind _of artist. She was painting murals with the blood of the unjust to give to the good and unfortunate of the Wastes, replacing the fear that they carried with hope.

"…_Sounds like they need you."_ Charon's raspy voice echoed in her head.

The Aimee of today wasn't going to let some security guard be the end of her- especially since, knowing her gruff bodyguard like she knew him, he'd come barreling down there looking for her if she didn't come out in a few hours like she said. He heard what the password was, he _knew_ it was Amata's name- he could come in whenever he damn well pleased!

_So I had better get this over with quickly... Because if __**he **__comes down here? Shit- these people better sing their praises, like Jericho __**should **__have done._An image of a battered and abused Jericho came to mind- even though she never saw the ex-raider after Charon was done mutilating him, she could still imagine what he came out looking like when her ghoulish bodyguard was finished.

The security guard didn't answer her question, so she took the liberty of assuming that it _had _been a while since he had a good chuckle. She continued on with her plan. Without taking her eyes off of his visor, using her free hand, she slowly moved it towards Charlie- her combat knife- on her thigh. The one she wasn't kneeling down on.

"So… You like knock-knock jokes?"

He didn't answer, just continued staring at her blankly. She _still _couldn't make out his face!

"Oh _c'mon_, now! Don't be shy! You might as well have a good giggle fit before you throw me back outside!"

"I'll get all my _"giggle fits"_ out when I throw you out and seal the door after you." He replied callously.

"_Aw!_ So hostile! Alright, I'll just assume you like knock-knock jokes!" He hadn't thrown her out yet, so she must have caught his interest _somehow._ Or, maybe, he didn't recognize her and was intrigued that a "specimen" from the outside world had gotten herself into one of the last sealed Vaults in the entire Capital Wasteland. Her hand was on Charlie's handle now, slowly wrapping her fingers around him, and using a flick of her pointer finger she undid the clasp that kept him tied down.

"_Knock-knock!_" She cried with the fake smile still plastered onto her face.

The security guard gave a shallow heave of a sigh. She could imagine that he was rolling his eyes behind his visor.

"_Who's there?_" He asked reluctantly.

Gripping Charlie's handle firmly, she ripped him from his binding on her thigh, nicking her pants leg in the process. Looking up over the arm the guard had a grip on, she stabbed him in the arm- above his elbow, which was pressed into her shoulder to keep her pinned. He cried out, releasing some pressure on her as he stumbled back, startled by her attack and the jagged blade jutting out of his limb. She yanked Charlie back out, placing the bloody blade between her teeth so it stained her lips, chin, and cheeks crimson as she hooked her leg behind the knee that was bracing the man above her. Using the leverage, she got up from her bent knee and swung herself to the side, launching him forward. He landed on the ground, face first, his visor making a loud smacking noise as it connected with the metal flooring and he let out a low groan of pain.

Aimee grinned as he rolled onto his side, then his back, and she lunged at him with an enraged howl springing forth from her throat. She was on top of him in seconds, straddling his hips with each of his hands pinned under her knees. She removed Charlie from her lips, revealing the gruesome smile he painted on her face with the officer's blood and pressed the jagged edge of the blade to the hollow of the man's throat.

"_Me. _With a fucking _knife_ to your throat, _that's _who." She spat, glaring down at him with her other hand pinning down his shoulder. "Anyone ever tell you not to let _strangers _into your home, mister?"

"Get_ off_ me!" He cried, thrashing his legs underneath her, struggling to wriggle his pinned hands out from under her knees.

"Take off your helmet first." She demanded.

"I _can't _when you're on my hands!" He pointed out acidly, turning his head to look back up at her.

"Then I'll do it my_self._" With Charlie still at his throat, she grabbed for the visor, smearing blood across it as he turned his head away. "Stop your tantrum for two _seconds!_ You got pinned by a girl, _so __**what?**_"

He continued to thrash underneath her, struggling even more so to get free until she pressed Charlie's jagged teeth even _further_ into the hollow of his throat- making him gag with surprise.

"Stop fighting me. Or I _will_ cut you- from ear, to ear." She grinned. "Cracking a joke isn't the only way I can _make you __**smile…**_"

Aimee could see the man's Adam's Apple bob against Charlie as he swallowed hard, finally laying still beneath her.

"May I? _Thank you._" She smiled triumphantly as she yanked up his helmet, looking down to a familiar face. Dark hair matted to a sweaty forehead, blue eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and sunken into his sockets, and there were more wrinkles imprinted in his tanned skin than she last remembered- creating frown lines around his thin lips and on his sweaty forehead.

"M- Mr. _Gomez…_" She muttered in surprise, easing Charlie back a little, but not enough where he could get up.

"You want to look me in the eyes before you kill me? Go ahead! But I hope you know you're killing a man who's going to be leaving a son and wife behind him!"

"I'm not going to kill you," She sighed, looking down at him under hooded eyelids. "If I didn't kill you back then, I'm _certainly_ not killing you now. And besides, Freddie's old enough to take care of himself. Your wife is more than capable enough as well. It's not like she's a _vegetable _or something..."

"Wha- _What?_ What do you mean _"back then?"_

"It's me, Mr. Gomez- Aimee. Aimee Carter?" She looked down at him, removing Charlie from his throat so he was held between the two of them, and she released her knees from his hands so he could prop himself up on his elbow and look up at her.

He looked like he still couldn't recognize her.

"…Aimee Carter? You know-_ Dr. Carter's kid?_ James Carter?" His eyes finally widened in shock and his jaw dropped to his chest. "So you _do _remember me! Er- I mean, _us._"

"A- _Aimee?_ How- How did-?... _What is going __**on? **_How on _Earth_ did you get in?" He cried exasperatedly.

"What other way is there to get in and out of this place? I came in the same way I left- _by way of front door?_" She replied in a scalded tone, getting to her feet and sheathed Charlie back on her thigh. She walked over and plucked up Elaine from the floor as Gomez completely sat himself up to gawk at her- as if he had seen the ghost of his grandmother, or something.

"I- I'm not exactly _surprised_ that you got _in,_ but I'm surprised that you came _back_… You have a lot of experience with that door- well, more than the rest of us ever have or _could _have." He shook his head. "No one's allowed near it."

"I saw the signs posted out front, next to all the _dead bodies._" Aimee answered in a matter-of-factly tone as she checked Elaine over and held her at her side. "What's going on? I got Amata's message."

"Amata's message?... I don't know what you're talking about, but I think I can certainly tell you _what's going on._ The Vault has gone south since you and your father left- the radroach infestation seems to have _boomed_ overnight, fires and explosions are _still_ breaking out everywhere, and with people getting injured there's no one to take care of them since the Vault doctor is gone and his assistant was killed by some radroaches that night."

"Jonas? Killed by _radroaches?_" She barked, spinning around to glare at him. He tensed up where he sat on the floor, cringing at the wound she gave him and grasped his arm with his face contorting into agony. "Who the _fuck _told you _that_ load of Brahmin shit?"

"_Brahmin __**what?**_" He wheezed, looking back up at her. "I don't know what that is, but the Overseer was the one who told us when people were asking for medical attention that night. He said the best he could do was put Andy in charge of medical because none of us had any medical experience to qualify as even _half _a doctor."

"That is a _**lie!**_" Aimee spat, gripping Elaine tightly in her hand- so tightly, her knuckles were bone white and her fingers twitched angrily. She needed to shoot something. _Anything._ "Jonas died because the _King _of Bullshitters sent his guard dogs after him! They thought he'd give them information on my father! When he didn't, they beat him to death with their fucking fists! Jonas was murdered and Alphonse is a fucking _liar!_ He's a fucking psychopathic_ cunt_ of a_ murderer!_"

"Al- Alphonse?... Aimee, you've got it all wrong. Alphonse wasn't the one that told us Jonas was dead."

"He- He _didn't?_ _But __**you **__said-!_"

"I said the _Overseer_ told us. Alphonse isn't the Overseer anymore- Allen Mack took his place because Alphonse _died_ the night you and your father left. An explosion went off in one of the levels, and he was caught in it."

Aimee's eyes widened as she stared down at Gomez, looking for the truth in his face. Other than the pain, exhaustion, and misery, she saw it in his eyes- a faint glimmer of a jewel. He certainly wasn't lying.

Alphonse was dead, and Allen took his place.

"_I changed the door password to my name. If you're hearing this, and somehow, I__** know**__ you are… Help us. __**My**_ _dad, he-… Just come back and help us… We need you. I-…__** I**_ _need you. __**I need you,**__ MeeMee…"_

Amata mentioned her father in her distress signal, she recalled. Her father _couldn't_ have been dead, _right?_ Amata talked about him like- like he was still _alive…_

_Yeah, but she could have been trying to say that he was dead… _Aimee looked on to the door down the hall at her side that led to the Vault atrium. _She could have been trying to say that things got worse because __**Allen **__came to power…_

"I need to find Amata." She spoke as Gomez finally got himself up from the floor, trying not to put strain on his injured arm, and their eyes snapped to meet each other. "You're going to take me to her. _Now._"

"I can't- the Rebels shoot at anyone that's not on their side if they come within the same _floor_ as their Headquarters."

"You can show me the way without ever stepping _foot_ in their territory." She growled.

"Look, Aimee…" Gomez sighed, still gripping his arm. "I like your dad, and you're a real sweet kid," He let out a small chuckle. "And here I still say that when you stabbed me in the arm!"

"Corner an animal and it'll act like an animal- isn't that what Alphonse always said?" She snapped.

"…What has the outside done to you, Aimee?" He asked in a low, sad tone. "I hardly recognize you anymore! Your hair is a mess, you're caked with dirt, you're carrying around- _weapons_ and talking like- like _that!_ Using all of these curse words, and before you left you never even so much as talked back to _anyone!_ What has up there _done_ to you?"

"_It made me __**grow up!**_" She bellowed, causing him to jump three feet out of his skin. "Up there, you can't afford to play nice and screw around- because playing nice will get you fucking _killed. _It's not like down here, the most you have to worry about is a little radroach. _Up there?_ You have groups of people _crazier _than Alphonse ever was, mutated animals and monsters and-"

Charon flashed into her mind, sitting at her dinner table with his gun taken apart and scattered across the table top. He looked up at her with a hardened look in his face, but his eyes said that he was rather at peace. She couldn't recollect how many times she'd just sit with him in the lantern light and watch him take apart his beloved shotgun to run maintanence and clean it properly. It was one of her favorite things to do...

_And then, you have people like Charon… Detached people that are really so kind underneath. Not everything that looks like a monster __**is **__a monster…_

"…You're _not _my fucking dad," She finally hissed out. "If you don't like how I am now then tough shit. It won't matter to _you_ anymore after I help Amata and I leave this fucking hellhole."

"Hellhole? It has to be a lot better down here than it is up there from what you've said!" He argued.

"_Up there"_ has a _name._ It's called the Capital Wasteland, and as shitty as you may think or it may sound, it's my _home._ My real and _actual _home… _**More **__than Vault 101 ever __**has**__ been to me…_ But I guess that makes sense, since I wasn't even born down here. I just grew up here."

"…I know. We know- all the adults, I mean… And after you left, Lucy Palmer told everyone about how her daughter Anne went up there a long time ago, too. So I guess everyone else knows now. That's why the Rebels are fighting. They want to go outside because you and James did it. They think it's a _great _idea."

"Thanks for telling me, Gomez." Aimee snapped, turning to the hallway to walk towards the atrium door. "I'm going to go find Amata."

"Ai- Aimee, _wait!_" He crowed, jogging after her. She turned back, staring straight into his eyes- the sharpness of her anger, welling into razorblades in her grey eyes, made him freeze in place with his mouth hung open.

"_Don't _follow me." She dug into one of her pack pockets. "I can do this on my own. I'll find Amata, _by myself,_ and I'll shoot _anyone_ who stands in my way. Better send out a little memo to the rest of the guards in here- _because I __**will**__ break necks._"

"Aimee…" He murmured as she pulled out a Stimpak from her backpack and underhanded it to him- hitting him square in the chest and it clattered on the floor at his feet.

"That's for the stab I gave you. Put it in right and it should heal up just fine." Aimee spoke as she shrugged her pack back on and continued walking down the hallway. "No time like the present to teach yourself something."

"W- Wait! Aimee, if Allen knows you're here, he's going to send all the guards after you and get you killed! Don't you realize that you could _die?_" When she kept walking, ignoring his words, he called again. "_Aimee!_"

"Thanks for the heads up, but I can take care of myself just fine. You think that I'm going to be worried about Allen if I've fought all those things that I mentioned and _lived?_" She replied tersely as she slapped her hand to the door console and the door shot up in front of her, allowing her to walk into the atrium. Gomez's cries were cut off as it closed behind her and she continued on, giving a weary sigh.

_Well. That could have gone better… But fuck him for telling __**me**__ what to do! He's not my __**dad!**_

Of course the man wasn't her father- he could never amount to the great man her father is. It saddened her to think like that, knowing that she was down here yelling at a father while not even being able to confront her own… It made her a little empty inside.

She let out a sad chuckle and a shake of her head as she continued walking as a trembling voice cried out. She snapped her head up to find Officer Taylor behind a barricade of tables a few feet from her out of the hallway with Freddie Gomez farther away, donning a-

Her eyes widened in disbelief. _That looks like a Tunnel Snakes jacket!... Oh boy…_

"_Stay- Stay __**back!**__ I don't want to shoot you, Freddie!_"

"Like _hell_ you don't want to shoot me, you old geezer! You're with the Overseer! The Overseer _kills_ for shits and giggles!" Freddie yelled back, pointing at the hallway where Aimee stood. Both seemed unaware of her presence. "Now, you're going to let me walk through that door!"

"_**Stay back!**_" Taylor cried again, pulling out his gun from the holster on his thigh and pointed it at Freddie. "_I'll- __**I'll shoot!**_"

"Go ahead! _Shoot me!_ _I __**dare **__you!_" He spread out his arms as if they were wings, bracing his feet on the floor. "I double _dog_ dare you!"

Aimee let out a disappointed sigh at the two going back and forth with each other- dishing out threats faster than they could blink, but neither carrying out what they said they'd do. She dropped her backpack on the floor at the mouth of the hall, pulled out her baseball bat, Bethanie, from the lip of her backpack and holstered Elaine as she walked back over to Taylor. Freddie saw her before the elderly man did.

"_Ho- Holy __**shit!**_" He cried, pointing at her as he took an uneven step back, falling flat on his arse.

As Taylor turned on his heel to look at her, Aimee swung Bethanie up- knocking Taylor's gun out of his hands. She then swept back with the bat, low to the ground, knocking his legs out from underneath him so he landed flat on his back. The sound of his head connecting with the floor made a sick noise, and he let out a moan of pain before passing out. She shouldered Bethanie, turning to grab her stuff and tossed it onto her other shoulder by the strap, walking towards Freddie.

"You certainly _are_ a Tunnel Snake- you talk more than you walk." She smirked mockingly.

His ears seemed to perk up on the sides of his head, and his eyes widened. It looked like he didn't recognize her face, but he had recognized her voice.

"Ai- _Aimee?_ Is- that you?"

She nodded, looking back at Taylor, who was obviously still unconscious on the floor.

"…You _gotta _show me how to do that." Freddie quipped, looking up at Aimee as he stood up from the floor and dusted himself off. "He's gonna be okay though, right?"

"The hell do you care?" She looked back at him. "You were planning on, and I quote, _"shoving your foot so far up his ass he'd need to get it surgically removed."_

"Yeah…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't tell my parents I said that. The Vault may have gone to shit, but they'd still chew my ear off."

"Just don't tell your mom I stabbed your dad in the arm and you've got a deal." Aimee nodded as she walked past him, dragging Bethanie at her side across the floor.

Freddie stood stock still, blinking with thought as he tried to decipher what she meant. Once he understood, he spun around and called after her;

"_You __**stabbed**__ my __**dad?**_"


	38. CHP 38: These Strangers I Know

**A/N: HEY ALL! Pretty long chapter a head of 'ya! I REALLY ENJOYED THE DIALOG IN THIS ONE! The back and forth with Butch and Aimee made me ROFLCOPTER everywhere at some points xD Btw, most of the chapter is dialogue- just Aimee talking to the Rebels about all the shit going on and whatever. I hope it's not too boring!**

**Also, the latest chapter for A Trial of Risk and Fall will NOT be posted this week, as it is not yet finished. I'm still trying to figure out how to end it, and school and stuff is catching up to me... I was able to post for this story and Saving Me because the chapters were already pre-written. Sorry guys **

**Anyways, enjoy!**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee clopped up the metal staircase, Elaine up and at the ready in front of her as she cautiously stepped onto the next floor with Freddie at her side.<p>

"We're almost there- thanks for saving my ass down there, by the way." He nodded over his shoulder to the bottom of the stairs.

She looked back as well, finding a few bodies of radroaches that had crawled out from a nearby vent and tried attacking them from behind. She stomped on one or two, crushing their bodies or their skulls and sent a few rounds out of Elaine into another before realizing it was a waste of ammo. She cut one down the middle with Charlie afterwards, from between the antennas to its first pair of skittering legs, coating her hand in the slimy, translucent green juices that lashed out at her. She was going to wipe it off on her shirt, but decided that finding a nearby sink or water fountain was better. She didn't want to walk around with her clothes smelling like feet when she probably already smelled bad enough for some of the people down here.

_I know there are a few water fountains around the clinic… I can clean up there._ She finalized as she looked on, finding that the hallway ahead of them, leading to the clinic, was _crowded_ with furniture. A skeleton of metal shelving was angled against the wall long ways with a broken terminal on one of the shelves, a gurney was laying straight across the floor with the wheels sticking straight up and squeaking as they gently rolled on their pegs, even an overturned _table _was against the wall. Mattresses littered the floor along with piles of paperwork, dishes like plates and cups, other broken electronics, some articles of what appeared to be clothing or bedding…

Oh, and a Tunnel Snake.

Butch DeLoria, the childhood bully himself, was leaning against one of the pillars opposite of the clinic door. His feet were crossed at the ankle with his arms folded in front of him, his chin lowered to his chest as if he were sleeping. A toothpick shifted between his thin lips, and Aimee had to assume he was simply thinking- not sleeping.

_He's gonna hurt himself if he keeps __**that **__up._ She thought sourly, glancing to Freddie as he stepped past the angled shelving and cabinet towards Butch with a smile on his face.

"Amata's signal got through!" He called to the Serpent King, stopping when his leader looked up with an impassive look ghosting across his face. He twitched the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth and continued chewing on it. "She's gonna help us get outta here!"

"The fuck are 'ya talkin' about, Gomez?" He asked lazily, and then yawned. "And where the hell were you, anyways? Amata was chewin' my ear off 'bout you- I told her I wasn't the damn monkey keeper, 'n I don't keep tabs on 'ya. She nearly ripped my arm off when I said it- somethin' 'bout staying together and shit..."

"Jeeze, almost a year later and you _still_ don't learn a damn thing, DeLoria." Aimee snapped, stepping towards them from her place behind the small blockade of furniture after assuming Butch probably couldn't see her. "If you were any _more_ stupid, you'd have to be watered twice a week, I swear."

Butch said nothing as he shrugged his hands into his leather jacket pockets, his thumbs catching on the fabric so they jut out. He shot her a coy smirk, tilting his head back as if he needed to get a better look at her. He didn't seem all that surprised that she had returned, and that she was right there in front of him.

"And it looks like you're still vertically challenged, half-pint... I think you actually got shorter."

She narrowed her eyes, shooting a horrid scowl at him with her finger twitching on Elaine's trigger.

"Yeah, it's been a year- but don't think I've gotten rusty. I can still mow you down." He grinned wolfishly.

"What are you doing outside?" She shot back coolly.

"What the hell are 'ya talkin' about? Outside where?"

"Outside _here._ I mean, _someone_ had to let you out of your cage, right?" She smiled cruelly when Butch grimaced, and then glanced over to Freddie. "Where's Amata?"

"Probably trynna break The Crotch out of jail." Butch answered even though he knew the question wasn't meant for him, and pushed away from the wall to walk a few steps towards them. "'Ya got a lot of balls comin' back here after you and your dad fucked everything up for the rest of us."

Aimee snapped her eyes to his. He continued chewing on his toothpick. But when she said nothing, he smiled.

"What are you doin' back in here anyways? You were out there, weren't you? Free to do whatever the _hell_ you wanted and you decide to come back here." He shook his head in disappointment. "Haven't I taught you _anything _when you were still here?"

"You didn't teach me shit-all, so get your foot out of your fucking mouth Butch." He blinked at her in surprise when she said "shit," and his toothpick almost dropped out of his mouth when she said "fucking." It was interesting to see that he was more surprised by the colorful additions to her vocabulary than her overall return, and she had to wonder if she was really _that _much of a goody-goody to these people when she escaped. But, his surprised expression quickly reverted back to his collected smile in no time.

"Looks like you're not a goody-two-shoes no more." He pointed out, confirming her thoughts- sadly.

"Freddie, mind telling me what's going on?" Aimee asked, turning to the newest generation of the Gomez clan. "Or at _least_ catch me up? I got what I could from your dad- he said Alphonse is dead and Allen Mack's in charge now. That true?"

Freddie nodded solemnly. "Overseer Mack is worse than Amata's bitch of a dad _ever _was. He's a lot more paranoid, always forcing rules down our throats like it was candy, I swear."

"He also told me the Vault was opened before." She pointed out, brushing her hair out of her eyes with her relatively clean and radroach gizzard juice-free hand.

"How long did it take you to figure _that _one out?" Butch asked snidely.

"About five minutes after I left the Vault." She replied, trying to keep a level head and handed Freddie Elaine. "Please, hold this before I shoot his fucking head off."

"Uh- _okay…_" He took the gun reluctantly, observing it curiously as the two got to talking.

"'Ya wouldn't shoot me," Butch grinned broadly.

"Your right. I wouldn't. I'd most likely tear your limbs apart and watch you try to squirm away from me."

He frowned. "Woah. The fuck's got _your _panties in a bunch?"

"I've got a snake in my boot." She shot bacl with a raised brow as if the answer was obvious- _which it was..._

"We're with the Rebels,Freddie and me, trynna fight against Mack with a few other people like Amata and Old Lady Palmer." He ignored her comment, continuing on. "Freddie's a dumbshit, but he's right. _Overseer _Mack is _worse_ than Amata's pops ever was, what with all the deaths, the _lies _and _bullshit- _and now he's got us on lockdown. Like a buncha fuckin' _rats _in his little funhouse." He spoke, scratching his jaw and slid his toothpick to the other side of his mouth again. "Amata said she'd try to send out some S.O.S. to 'ya, but didn't know if it'd get past all the metal and rocks and whatever. Looks like it worked, though- since you're here now."

"An S.O.S., huh?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, _Save Our Skins,_ pipsqueak." He replied, looking up at Freddie as he continued to study Elaine curiously.

"S.O.S. stands for _Save Our Ship…_" She rolled her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck.

"Either way, you're saving something. _Lucky you_. So you gonna help us or not?"

"Why should I?"

"'Cause you came down here for a reason, right?"

"What if I came just to pick up some of my junk?"

"You're a little goody-two-shoes-"

"You said I wasn't anymore." She shrugged, putting her hands on her broad hips. "I don't know why I let Charon talk me into helping you guys- I should have just terminated the distress signal channel from my Pip-Boy and kept on walking. The more I hear and the longer I'm down here, the more I wanna go back outside and _not_ come back."

Butch's dark brows furrowed together with slight concern. "The hell happened to 'ya, short-stop? You're not-… **_You._** You changed."

"The fuck do _you _care, DeLoria?" She flinched mentally, waving a dismissive hand at him as she walked towards the clinic doors. Why was everyone getting so choked up about her supposedly _changing?_ She hadn't changed _that much!..._ Had she?

"What were you _expecting _me to say?" He asked as he walked after her, and she stopped to look back at him.

"Nothing- nothing at all, as you don't have a right to say a _fucking_ thing. I didn't wake up this morning thinking that I'd be going back to Vault 101. And even when I was walking the halls, I didn't think you'd be alive. I thought a radroach would have gotten you or something."

He cringed in offense, rolling his toothpick between two of his fingers.

"So you gonna help us or not?" He snapped. "'Ya couldn't have just come down here to get your shit together or to tell me off. You came down here 'cause you were _worried _'bout us, weren't you?"

She frowned. "I came down here because a good friend of mine convinced me it was the right thing to do," _And I am __**so **__killing him when I get back up there… _She added on mentally.

"Well, you're here, so you might as well make yourself useful and help us out." He gave a toothy grin. "Don'cha think?"

Aimee sighed, slapping her hand to the console for the clinic doors. "I'm not agreeing to _shit_ till I can talk to Ama-"

"_**AIMEE!**_" Amata squealed as she bolted out of the clinic and barged into her, sending them both tumbling back so they slammed into the pillar Butch previously occupied. Aimee was on the floor, head connected with the pillar, with Amata sprawled across her lap.

"Oh my _God!_ I can't believe you're back!" She squealed again, sitting up and giving her friend a broad grin before it disappeared from her lips, looking onto Aimee's irritated glare as she rubbed the back of her head.

"The _fuck_ did you do _that_ for?" She winced, shaking her head clear of the fog that began to settle and blinked. "I feel like a damn dinner bell now! My ears are ringing…" She wiggled her pinkie finger in her ear for emphasis.

"S- Sorry… I- Just missed you, is all." She frowned with her brows knitting together above her sad eyes. Normally, Aimee probably would have reciprocated the tackle with a big bear hug, but like everyone was saying lately- _you're different now. You're not Aimee anymore. You're someone else- a someone else I don't like one bit._

"You could have shown me that you missed me _without _tackling me…" She argued quietly, getting up from the floor and helping Amata up after her. "I got your signal and came back to do some damage control- lemme get you up to speed on what I know. Your father died and Allen took his place and put everyone on lockdown, right?" Amata nodded. "I'm under the impression that the Rebels want to get out of here."

"We don't want to _complete _leave!" Amata cried, gesturing towards the clinic where more Vault Dwellers resided. They were either sleeping on mattresses, sitting on the floor, leaning against walls- one was vomiting in the corner- and a few others seemed to be severely injured or dead already. Aimee swallowed and looked back to her childhood friend as some eyes seemed to meet hers with a glimmer of hope in them.

Charon was a bit... well, _wrong._ The Vault wasn't in the Wasteland, but the scenery was no different if you imagined the steel walls were open space of dead plants and trees and houses.

"Seems like most of you are kinda dead already." She muttered under her breath, hoping Amata didn't hear. "So what is it that you guys want?"

"We _do_ want to leave, but the Vault is our home. We were born here and we grew up here, you know?"

"What's with all this _"__**we**__" _stuff? If you were listening to some of the people around here, you'd know I'm not from down here. I'm from _up there._"

There was a small noise as Butch's toothpick slipped out of his mouth and ticked on the ground. There was a popping noise as Amata's jaw seemed to have dropped to her chest, which was followed by a loud clatter as Freddie dropped Elaine. Some of the Rebels from inside the clinic looked up as well, having been close enough to hear what she had said.

"Wa- _Wait a minute!_" Butch cried, holding his hands up in a "time out" gesture. "You saying you aren't- you weren't _born _in here? You were born up _there?_"

"Yeah- I figured since Old Lady Palmer told you guys that the Vault has been opened before, she'd tell you about my father and I… I've been told that I was born out there, but my dad brought me here when I was just a baby for some reason."

"Why didn't you _tell _us?" Amata cried.

"Oh, I am _so _sorry that the fact that I still might be in shock about my _entire _life being a fucking _**lie **_is an inconvenience for you! Also, please excuse me while I find a nearby payphone to contact you on while I'm _**outside **__busting my__** ass **__just to__** fucking **_**survive!**_ If I had known sooner, I probably would have fucking __**told **__you!_"

Amata cringed away at her booming voice and livid eyes, darting her own watery eyes away and hugged herself tightly.

"I- I didn't… I wasn't thinking- I'm sorry."

"Damn _right _you weren't fucking thinking!" She threw her arms up in the air exasperatedly.

"Well how do you think _I _feel, Aimee?" She yelled, glaring back at her while still hugging herself tightly. "Your life isn't the _only _one that was a big fat lie! What about the rest of us? My dad- he lied to _all _of us and said that the Vault was never opened and never _will be_ opened! We were lied to too and now he's dead! What about _your _father, Aimee? Where is he?"

Aimee bit down on her lower lip till it turned as white as her teeth. "…I haven't found him yet. I was on my way to a new lead when I got your signal."

Her eyes widened. "Wa- Wait… A year later and you _still _haven't found him?"

She felt something awful, like an ember glowing deeply in the pit of her stomach, flare up into her chest. She was mad- _beyond mad-_ she was… she didn't know how to describe it. She- she wasn't just _angry._ She was hateful. She hated _everyone- _all of _them- _accusing her father of something he had no control of- calling him a traitor, amongst other names, but he had his _own _reasons for escaping. How _dare _they point fingers at her father, blaming him for problems that were already there to begin with, and then turn around and beg for her help? _How do they have the __**balls **__to do that?_

They were either quite stupid, or stupidly courageous to pull a stunt like this.

So, with all the work done in her head, she spun on her heel and walked to Freddie, snatching Elaine out of his startled hands, put her into the holster on her waist, and walked away from the three of them with her head held high.

"Ai- Aimee! _Wait!_ Where are you _going?_" Amata cried out after her. "You still need to help us!"

"_I see no__** reason **__to need or even __**want**__ to help __**you!**_" She bellowed, stopping in the middle of the hallway with her hands tightly clasping the backpack straps on her shoulders. "_You __**all **__still blame my father for all your problems- and then you have the __**gall- **__the __**nerve-**__ to demand help from me and expect me to roll over and do it!_" She twisted her chin over her shoulder, sending them a malicious sneer. "_My dad didn't __**leave,**__ he __**escaped-**__ and it's called __**escaping **__for a reason. Because there's something __**better **__up there!_"

"Don't you think that's _why _we want to leave, half-pint?" Butch quipped. Freddie and Amata both sent him warning glares, but he shrugged them off and walked towards Aimee with his hands in his pockets. "Because _anything _up there, has to be better than doing the same old thing everyday down _here_. After all, you said 'ya came down here 'cause your friend told you it was the right thing to do. Sharon- right?"

"_I don't know why I let Charon talk me into helping you guys- I should have just terminated the distress signal channel from my Pip-Boy and kept on walking. The more I hear and the longer I'm down here, the more I wanna go back outside and __**not **__come back."_

Aimee pushed her forehead into her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, closing her eyes slowly and sighed. Where had her mind gone? Charon didn't talk her into believing that this was the right thing to do- he got her to see something she had already _known_ but didn't want to face. He had her realize that as much as she was angry with these people, they still deserved a chance to live and explore and _discover_ like she had. If her father hadn't escaped, she wouldn't have been able to find out about her true past, even though it was a lie, and if he hadn't escaped, she would have only lived a life where marrying and reproducing the next generation of Vault Dwellers to only repeat the cycle was the only thing she'd amount to. If her father hadn't escaped… She wouldn't have gone outside and helped all those people. She wouldn't have made her life an adventure. And, most importantly, she wouldn't have met Charon…

_"When things got rough, she always said __**"The right thing isn't always the easiest thing- but that is what makes the reward so much more worthwhile."**__What do __you__ think is the right thing to do?"_

It made her realize that what he said was probably the best advice she was ever given. Even though her father was very insightful, and told her many life lessons that she still remembered to this day, she never thought that she heard something more insightful in her life. She now wanted to know who this person was- a woman, Charon made it sound like- and then realized that it might have been Rose. The woman that he called her once before, like back at the Museum of Technology.

_Who was Rose to you, Charon?... And who were you to her?_

Amata shuffled over after a few moments, still hugging herself and stood by Butch's side. She opened her mouth to speak, but Aimee cut her off.

"Ch- Charon…" The three Vault Dwellers gawked at her as she turned around, still fingering the straps on her shoulders and stared at her feet. She wondered if he would be ashamed to see her acting like this, or proud that she was telling everyone where to stuff it. "His name's Charon- not _Sharon- _and yes, he convinced me to come down here and help you guys."

"Wait- _he?_ Your friend's a _dude? __**Hah!**_" Butch snickered. "But Sharon's a _girls _name!"

Aimee narrowed her eyes. "You ever wonder what life would be like if you got enough oxygen at birth, DeLoria?"

He immediately went silent, reciprocating the glare she was sending him.

"Wait, so where's your friend Charon now?" Amata asked quietly. "Is he not here with you?"

"I thought he'd be saf- _better off_ waiting outside." She shrugged, looking down the stairs as if hoping he was standing there, waiting for her to give him some sort of direction. "He's not that… _social._ Doesn't like hanging around big crowds of people." She explained, looking back to them. "I don't think he would have liked it down here."

_Of course, he probably wouldn't have minded if he was at least able to kill something…_

"Are you still going to help us, Aimee?" Freddie asked hopefully, stepping towards her with an outstretched hand. "We don't think it's your dad's fault. We never did." He looked back to Amata and Butch, then turned his eyes to some of the other Vault Dwellers (the ones that were able to pick themselves up off the floor or peel themselves off from the walls) who looked out from the clinic doorway. "It's anyone who's not with us that blames your dad. We wanna leave like he did- like _you_ did- 'cause it's just… There's nothing _down _here! It's the same people, the same walls, the same _lights…_ What's the sun like, Aimee? And the sky? And the ground and other _people?_ What's it _all_ like?"

She smiled a little at all his questions and she brushed her hair out of her eyes, walking back to them to only simply brush past. She didn't bother looking back, as she already knew that they were probably gawking at each other in bewilderment. They followed her as she made her way to the center floor of the clinic and darted her eyes to all the faces of the Rebels that circled around her, blocking off any entrance or exit. They were all faces that she recognized, but all seemingly distorted- hungry, frightened, with sunken eyes and tight-lipped mouths… They looked like they were on their way to turning into ghouls and then becoming _feral._ They looked… _**deprived.**_ Deprived of _everything_ they deserved- they deserved to know what it was like to have the sun washing down on them, they deserved to know what it was like roaming the Wastes (as dead as it was) with nothing but blue skies above their heads…

_They deserve a chance to __**live.**_ She decided, imagining Charon standing right next to her, giving an approving nod of his head without showing any emotion whatsoever. She had to do everything in her power not to turn around and ask, _"Are you proud of me, Char-bear? Did I do good?"_

"…It'd be no fun if I told you what it all was like." Aimee finally spoke with a slight chuckle and shook her head, looking back to Freddie, Amata, and Butch- who seemed unamused as he played with his switchblade. "Your first time outside wouldn't be any fun if I told you what it all was like. Besides, everyone experiences differently… Like I said before, the Capital Wasteland is my _home._ You'll all probably feel a bit- _differently,_ than what I feel."

"Wait, so does that mean-?..." Amata asked as she chewed on her lower lip, her eyes dancing wildly in her eye sockets.

"I'll help you." She confirmed.

Her answer was only met back by a sliver of silence before a scream ruptured throughout the clinic, Butch dropped his switchblade on the ground with a clatter, and with a devastated noise of ruptured flesh, blood splattered across the office window on the far side of the clinic. The sea of on looking Rebels parted in horror as Aimee charged forward with Amata tailing her, barging into her father's old office to find Andy hovering over a massacred body. Amata gagged and, covering her mouth, ran back out to vomit some place. Aimee simply stood at the door, looking onto Beatrice's mutilated body with only a twinge of sorrow in her heart. Seeing ruined bodies such as this wasn't knew for her, as she's seen bodies that didn't even _look_ like bodies when the Raiders or Super Mutants or Feral Ghouls were done with them.

"Andy, what on _Earth_ did you do?" She sighed, walking forward with her arms folded over her chest. "Decided to take a whirl in the "mad doctor" track when being a maintenance robot wasn't _exciting _enough?" She cracked.

"Ah, yes! I see that you've come back to Vault 101, Miss Carter!" Andy quipped, spinning around to prod one of his sensory "eyes" straight into her face, causing her to flinch back in surprise. Blood was slashed across the yellow flickering glass dome. "Well, you see- after your father left the Vault and with Jonas dead, I was put in charge of any and _all _medical cases!"

"Well, that explains _part _of what happened in this place. It looks like a slaughter house!" She looked down at Beatrice's body again, which was missing a leg from the knee down, but bone fragments and muscle ligaments were strewn across the floor, the furniture, and she looked up just in time to see what looked like a flap of marred and bloody skin peel off from the ceiling to land on Andy's outstretched sensory limb with a sick _plop_. He shook it off with relative ease, and it landed on the floor by Aimee's foot. She didn't even flinch or bat an eye.

"I suppose I can explain that." He whirred away, changing his flamethrower attachment to a hose and began to spray down the floor. The blood was swept away, all the bright crimson watered down before circling down the drain in the middle of the floor. "Ms. Beatrice sprained her big toe- the left one- and I felt that the best course of action would be to amputate…"

"The _entire _leg?" Aimee exclaimed, slapping a hand to her forehead. "You should have simply wrapped her toe in compression bandages and prescribed some sleep and minimal walking!"

Andy was quiet as he turned to look at her with his main sensory eye.

"Well, I see that _you _must be the real doctor here." He snipped sarcastically.

"Better than you, tin can." She shot back with a smile, gesturing to Beatrice. "You said it was the left big toe, right?"

"Yes, I most certainly did!"

"…You amputated the _right _leg, Andy…"

"I realize I performed amputation on her leg, mistress."

"No, no, _no._ I mean you amputated the _wrong_ leg!"

"You said it was the _right_ leg, and now you tell me it's the _wrong _leg?"

"…Do you have a wire loose or something?" Aimee murmured as she squeezed the bridge of her nose and gave a long, weary sigh.

This little return visit home was probably more trouble than it was worth… But somehow, somewhere in the midst of her worried thoughts, Aimee was doing this so she could go back to Charon and get her nod of approval and then _move __**on **_to find her father. Then, she smiled a little at the idea of possibly getting her reward from Charon in the form of a little pet on the head, like before… It was actually kind of cute.

_It's almost like he's forgotten-... Forgotten how to be affectionate... Like, this is the best he can do for me._

So as she spun Andy around and pulled away the lid on his backside, gazing into the wires, she thought of how she would diffuse the dilemma Vault 101 had, and how she would ultimately come to help these strangers that she thought she once knew.


	39. CHP 39: Maybe, I Won't Say Maybe

**A/N: WHAT'S UP EVERYBODY? I won' be talking for long, because you guys have got a LONG chapter a head of you! 16 pages opposed to the 5 - 6 pages usually write for this story... :D I'm also here to tell you guys that I was thinking about changing the day that I post chapters. I post them every Tuesday, but I realize that it might take a while for you guys to settle down so you can read them, considering it's a school day so you're at school for some of the day, then you come home and- if you're not ANYTHING like me- you do your homework C:! So, I was planning on changing the date to sometime over the weekend- either Saturday or Sunday- because I thought it'd be a little more convieniant for you guys!**

**Let me know what you think about the change ;D**

**Oh, also- ever heard of ? It's the sister website to where you can post original works. I made an account recently, and posted my first entry (a poem!) So go ahead and check it out! PLEASH? D:**

**My username is TheFloridaKeyz *HEHE Left4Dead...***

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p><em>Maybe… You'll think of me, when you are all- alone. Maybe… The one who is waiting for you, will prove untrue- then what will you do?<em>

Aimee's mind hummed the tune as she "listened" to Amata talk about what the "game plan" should be. She wasn't really listening, because it wasn't the _first _time Amata had a plan that went straight down the shitter.

Then again… She's had some good ideas in the past that _were _somewhat successful- like helping her escape that fateful day almost a year ago.

"So you'll talk to him?" Amata finally ended, hands on her hips.

"Huh?" Aimee picked up her head lazily, peeking at her childhood friend through a crack between her eyelids. "What was that?"

She huffed an irritated sigh and shook her head. "You're going to talk to Allen Mack, _right?_" She clarified.

"Sure thing. Why not?_ It's not like_ _he's__not fucking __**crazy**__ or anything._" She snorted sarcastically.

"It's the only way, Aimee…" She frowned.

"Or I could just kill him," Aimee answered offhandedly, opening both of her eyes. She was sitting at one of the desks in the clinic, legs crossed, elbow propped on the desk with her chin cradled in her upturned palm. She bounced one knee lazily.

Amata gave a nervous chuckle. "_Very _funny…"

When Aimee gave her a serious look, backing up what she had said, Amata's nervous smile turned back into a frown, and her eyes turned cold.

"_No._ Absolutely _not!_" She cried. "Aimee, we don't want any more fighting! We don't want any more _killing! _We've had enough of both already- a years' worth of it, actually… Can't you just do this civilly and not swing a bat around or something? For me? _Please?_"

"Do you _honestly _think Allen Mack is going to want to sit down and talk with me? He's pissed that I left, probably pissed that I've come back- if_ anyone's_ going to be swinging a bat, it's going to be _him_, and he's going to be aiming for my face." She picked herself up from the desk. "If you don't want to fight, and if you don't want to kill, then why do you want to leave the Vault and go out there when it's _nothing _but fighting and killing if you want to survive?"

Her frown deepened. "_Please _Aimee?"

"For _fuck's _sake, have you _not _listened to _anything _that I just told you?" She squeezed the bridge of her nose. "_Fine! _I'll fucking talk to him… But if the words are down than the fists are up. And I can _guarantee _you that Allen Mack will _not _be walking out of that office alive."

Amata didn't look at all pleased, but she also looked fearful- like she found truth in Aimee's words. Her best friend wasn't her _best friend _any longer. She was an angry and violent stranger, covered in dirt, carrying a weapon, swearing colorfully… But before Amata could say anything more, Aimee picked up her pack from the floor, swung it up onto her shoulder, brushed past her and walked out of the clinic with all eyes trained on her from the other Rebels. The door rolled open and she stepped out, making her way to the stairs to go to the Overseer's quarters. Even after all this time, she could still navigate herself quite well around the Vault The year she was gone felt like _several _years- like each day she was gone was a year in itself. She wondered how much older she looked now to everyone with the stress of the Wasteland and trying to find her father weighing down on her shoulders.

_I wonder when all that weight's going to break my back… I wonder when the barrel of my gun is going to suddenly seem so __**damn **__inviting…_She immediately regretted her depressing thoughts once thinking about Charon. She shook her head clear and tried to think of good things. Charon, her father, her home, her friends- whoever they may be …

"Hey, half-pint!"

…And a dead snake.

Aimee stopped at the stairs and looked over her shoulder, watching Butch and Freddie run towards her. Butch had his Toothpick out, and Freddie was wielding a pipe.

"What do you two want?" She asked softly, eyeing the weapons warily.

"We wanna come with you to go see Mack," Freddie announced.

"But we heard 'ya think it's a lost cause- trynna talk to him. It'd do you as much good as talkin' to a brick wall." Butch pointed out.

"Of course it's a waste of my damn time. I said I'd talk to Allen to get Amata to shut the hell up, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to at least try to talk him out of this isolation campaign he's got going on. I know he's not willing to listen to what I have to say when you think about it- his whole _family _is like a fucking herd of stubborn Brahmin, there's _no_ changing their tune once their singing it." She shook her head. "And I _don't _need Tweedle-Dee" She pointed to Freddie, "And Tweedle-_Dumbass_," Then pointed to Butch. "Following after me like little lost mutts because they want to see some justice done. You'll get your justice soon enough, boys." She turned and continued her trek on the stairs. "So thanks, but no-_fucking-_thanks."

"There _is _another way." Butch called after her coyly, stopping her dead in her tracks. She turned around to gawk at him. "Yeah, _that _got your attention, didn't it? So I was thinking-"

"_Oh my God!_ You _think? _It's a God-given miracle! Somebody get his mother, she's going to be _so _proud of him!"

Freddie snorted behind him, and with a sharp glare from his Tunnel Snake leader, he silenced himself… He was still grinning a shit-eating grin, though.

"Shut the fuck up and _listen _to me, Aimee." He demanded, looking back at her. "The night you left, Stanley's been bitching 'bout the reactor since- said it got toasted, and he's worried the Vault's gonna go with it… He's afraid we'll lose air filtration or whatever…"

"I think I know where this is going," Aimee turned away, continuing to go up the stairs to signal that he no longer had her attention and the conversation was, thus, _over_.

"All you have to do is sabotage the reactor, and we can get outta here!" He went on anyhow, following after her. Freddie scurried up after them both. "You're gonna help Amata anyway, _right?_ So why's my plan any different?"

"Amata doesn't want to leave the Vault _completely._ She just wants to open the door. You want to turn it into a fucking _sinkhole_ by blowing up the reactor," She answered. "If I go with your plan, you all are going to be forced out into the Wasteland whether you like it or not, and I can't do that just because you don't give two shits about the Vault. Everyone _else _does Butch, and if you have nothing to come back to you are all going to fucking _die _out there."

"So what about the Vault? And why _not_ go with my plan? If you survived out there anyhow, so can we!"

"_That's __**not **__the way it __**works, **__DeLoria!" _She boomed, spinning on her heel to glare at stared at her, wide-eyed and shocked. How could these people misunderstand their _misunderstanding _of how _dangerous _the outside world was? "Don't you fucking _get it?_ The Wasteland is- fuck, I don't even know _why _I'm even _bothering _to explain this to you… _**Again…**_ Honestly? I'd be doing you _all _a fucking favor by siding with Mack to keep the damn door closed. At least you'd all be _safe._"

"That's not fair Aimee, and you know it." He scowled. "You're not even gonna give us a chance 'cause you're too damn scared that one of us is gonna get hurt or die? Everyone gets hurt, everyone dies. What difference does it make how or when or where?"

"_**The right thing isn't always the easiest thing- but that is what makes the reward so much more worthwhile.**__"_

Aimee bit her lip as Charon's voice reeled in her head. Was this what he meant? The right thing was to help the Rebels, even though it wouldn't be easy, right? Then what was the reward for all her work? They were going to _die _out there, weren't they?

_...The reward is showing them that the Wasteland really isn't all __**that **__bad… Like seeing the sun for the first time. The reward is giving them freedom and seeing what they make of it._

"I could still just blow up the reactor by myself…" Butch quipped softly, looking away, and a concerned look passed over Freddie' face. "I don't need you to help me."

Aimee barked out laughter. "Actually, you would, if I had even agreed to your plan in the first place. Knowing Stanley he's got a pretty tight lock and key for the terminal that works the reactor. You're going to fry it to shit if you try to hack it yourself. Either that, or you're going to fry that poor little brain of yours even _trying _to hack that terminal." She walked away from him. "And the only reason I was able to survive out there was because of Charon. I can't even tell you how many times he's saved my ass. I've got the scars and the stories to prove it."

"That girly friend of yours?" He followed after her. As did Freddie. _Again._

"He's _far _from girly," She smiled a little at the thought of her bodyguard. How long had she been away from him for? She looked at her Pip-Boy and sighed. Not even an hour… Crap. "You'd piss yourself if you saw him."

That statement was true- in more ways than one. He would probably piss himself because a.) Charon looks like the walking undead. You'd be stupid to lie to him about that in an effort to try and pull him out of his usually brooding moods, as Aimee had- stupidly- tried once or twice. Oh, and b.) because Charon can probably set you on fire with one look from those sharp, cold, always calculating eyes of his.

Or you'd alternatively melt into a pile of sludge.

Most likely burst into flames and _then _turn into a pile of sludge.

…That was if he didn't rip off your arm and beat you with it first…

Aimee wondered if he had ever done it before. She, scarily, wouldn't put it past him. Sometimes she wondered what her ghoul friend was capable of, because she knew she hadn't even dipped her little toes in_ that_ lake yet.

Butch snorted. "Bet you five bucks I wouldn't."

"What makes you think you'd live long enough out there to see him?" Aimee shot back warily as she made her way down the hall, stopping dead in her tracks when she heard a noise. Butch almost slammed into her, unaware of her abrupt halt but Freddie didn't notice in time. He slammed into Butch.

"_Watch it!_" He grimaced.

"_**SHH!**_" She hissed, stepping quickly back to the stairs to hide behind the corner and pulled Butch and Freddie with her. She glared at both of them. "Go back to the clinic. _Now._"

"Why? What the fuck is the _matter _with you?" He growled, fixing his hair and straightened out his jacket.

"I heard something," She pulled Elaine from the holster on her hip and peeked around the corner. "False alarm, it's just a radroach…" She stepped out, finding the overgrown insect chittering as it skittered across the floor, locating its prey- _them._

"Woah! It's a radroach!" Freddie exclaimed, backing away as did Butch. "Let's go, man! I _hate _those things!"

"Me- Me too…" He swallowed, his face turning quite pale. Aimee recalled his fear of radroaches, and in all honesty, she was surprised that he was _still _scared of them!

"It's just a bug," Aimee reassured them and frowned, watching as it was only about a foot away from her before she kicked it- sending it sprawling in the air to smash against the wall. She then went over to it, stomped on it, and ground her heel into its head till it popped like a mutfruit if you squeeze it hard enough in your fist. She looked back to the two boys, grinning at the shocked looks on their faces.

"And _this_ is why I should tell Amata that you should _all _stay in here," She replied, holstering Elaine. "Now get back to the clinic. I'm going to make my way to the Overseer's office, but first I'm going to break Brotch out of jail."

"We wanna come with you, Aimee!" Freddie exclaimed pleadingly. "C'mon! We're not gonna do anything!"

Aimee rubbed her eyes out of irritation, heaving an exhausted sigh as a familiar voice rung in her head.

_Maybe… You'll think of me, when you are all- alone. Maybe… The one who is waiting for you, will prove untrue- then what will you do?_

-:-

_Maybe… You'll sit and sigh- wishing that I were near…_

"I'll get you out in a minute, Mr. Brotch, don't you worry." Aimee smacked a hand to the glass, as if asking if she could hear him. He nodded and she went to the terminal, hoping that she would be able to hack into it and get the door open. The main reason why she was helping him out was because even though he was her teacher, they had a very sturdy bond that was created over time through her drawings and his fascination in her work.

Who knew the guy liked art?

The terminal chimed with approval and she was met with the usual interface, quickly clicking on the _Disengage Lock _option- there was a second option, but she didn't even bother to look at it. The door clicked and opened, Mr. Brotch running out to look back and forth before his weathered eyes fell upon her. He calmly walked over, leaning into the desk edge for support and panting as if he were out of breath.

"Oh God, Aimee! I _never _thought I'd be seeing _you _again!"

"I'd let the words speak for themselves, but I don't quite know if you mean it in a good way or a bad way, because everyone down here seems to have mixed opinions." She shrugged, folding her arms over her chest as he sat down to catch his breath. "You look like shit."

He did a double take, blinking at her strangely due to the curse word that tumbled out of her mouth.

"I meant it in a good way, seeing you again- I mean…" He decided to say instead of go on about how he was surprised she was using that kind of language- no one was used to it coming from _her._ It seemed like no one _ever _would. "Really, I did- because no one was probably going to come and get me out of there-"

"_Thanks._" She rolled her eyes.

"_But,_ it's mostly because I'm glad to see that you're okay, Leo." That was a nickname he had given her due to her work- it was the shortened, lazy version for Leonardo Da Vinci, a famous painter that lived _hundreds _of years ago- even before the Great War. "Seems like you've gotten along outside just fine on your own."

"Well, I've had help…" She replied modestly, smiling when Charon came to mind. "But yeah, I've survived another day. Unfortunately, I'm wasting it trying to help the Rebels."

"How's that going?"

"Amata wants me to talk to Allen Mack."

"_Ouch._"

"Yeah- _you're _telling _me…_"

"How are you going to do that?" He asked, scratching his head quizzically.

"I don't have a damn clue, in all honesty…" Aimee sighed, lolling her head back with her hands on her hips to stare at the ceiling- as if it would give her some divine answer. "I don't know what his intentions are by keeping everyone locked up in this place."

"He's on a power trip, kid." Mr. Brotch shook his head sadly. "He wants to _own _and _rule over _us little folk, and to hell with what the Vault's purpose is- _or was, _would seem to be a lot more precise."

"The Vault's purpose?" She questioned curiously, snapping her eyes to him.

"Ever heard of Vault-Tec?" She nodded. "Good. When Vault-Tec designed the Vaults topside, each of them were… _environments for experiments._ I don't know what the experiments were for the other Vaults they built, but the "duty" of Vault 101 was to keep the door shut indefinitely and see how long the population could hold out, genetic impact through mating over the generations-"

"_Mating? _You make it sound like we're a bunch of caged animals…"

"Uh- _hell-__**o?**_" He gestured to the room around them with his arms thrown out.

"…Sorry. I forgot I was back here…"

"I don't see how you can forget," He frowned.

"You know when you see a kid playing with this little toy car- missing a wheel, the paint's chipped, the whole rundown shebang- and _then _you give the kid a shiny new truck to play with… Nice tires, it makes noises when you run it across the floor, pretty paint job. The kid suddenly forgets all about that old car she had because she's found something else- found something _better _to replace it with?"

"Yeah…" He answered with a glimmer in his eyes that suggested he knew that feeling _exactly._ "What about it?"

"The chipped car is the Vault. The shiny new truck is the world outside. I'm the kid."

"Wow- then you've _really _been doing well for yourself outside… Anyways, yeah, that was the experiment for Vault 101. The thing is, we've been down here for so long that even though the Vault was damn crowded back in her glory days, it's struggling to take care of a population _now_- and that's basically due to inbreeding over the generations." He chuckled and shook his head. "You're a lucky one out of all of us- there isn't even a slight _chance_ that you could be a distant cousin to Butch DeLoria or something…"

"Oh _God-_ are you _trying _to give me nightmares?" She cried fearfully- albeit playfully.

Mr. Brotch laughed. "Glad you've still got your sense of humor, Leo."

"Butch makes for an easy target," She shrugged, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, shouldered her pack, and made her way to the door. "Well, I would _really _love to stay and chat, but I've got a date with a psycho bastard." She gave him a lazy salute.

"Wait, Aimee." Whenever he wanted to get her attention, he'd always use her name instead of her nickname- and it _always _worked. She spun around on her heel to listen. "When the security threw me in here, I-… I heard some things..."

"What'd you hear?"

"The guards… Talking about carrying out a raid on the Rebel headquarters we've got stationed up at your dad's clinic... I think the guards read it from the terminal… Hopefully it's still there and they didn't delete it. I don't know what else they're planning on doing."

The moment he mentioned the terminal, Aimee darted over to it and was met by the interface once more. Her eyes fell upon the second option she didn't even bother giving a look over- _**CONFIDENTIAL.**_

_Fuck… Fuck me!_ Her mind seethed as she opened it, quickly reading through it.

_**CONFIDENTIAL!  
>TOP-LEVEL SECURITY ONLY!<br>From: Chief Officer  
>Subject: Raid on Rebels<br>**_

_**In light of increased agitation from the rebel elements, I have come to the conclusion that we can no longer afford to be merciful to this scum. While some may hold out hope for a peaceful resolution, it's only a matter of time before they decide to take the fight to us. Or, worse yet, our families.  
><strong>_

_**I propose a midnight raid into their compound - live ammunition, zero tolerance. Make an example of the first two who fight back, and the rest will fall in line. We may lose a kid or two, but we'll save the Vault as a whole, and that's what counts.**_

You are not to inform the Overseer and some of our softer security guards about this plan, as they will only object and ensure our defeat. Once the deal's done, they'll see it was worth the price.

_**This'll show those scum what happens when you step out of line in our Vault.**_

"_No more fighting,_ she says! _No more killing,_ she says!" Aimee exclaimed angrily, smacking the side of the computer monitor as she mimicked Amata to the best of her ability quite childishly. "If it's a war they want, it's a war they'll _fucking _get!"

"What did it say?" Mr. Brotch asked, peering over her shoulder.

"_Peaceful resolution" _by live ammunition, _zero _tolerance, and a raid at midnight. Apparently losing a kid or two is going to help the Vault's population."

"Oh my God… Aimee, what are we going to do?"

"I can start by talking to Allen Mack and telling him about the security's team plans." She turned to him. "It's not going to be any more fun for him when he's trying to rule over a Vault of dead bodies. In the meantime, you'll go back to the clinic and get the Rebels prepared if I'm not able to convince Mack otherwise. Search through the lockers here, you should find some weapons, armor, ammo… Lock the clinic door, barricade the windows, make sure the sick and injured are in a safe place, arm _everyone _with whatever else you can find- boards, pipes, glass, table legs, use Andy for _Christ's sake_, he's a fucking _triple threat- _and try to ride it out. I'll come back for you guys ASAP."

"Got it," He nodded. "I trust you, kid… You sound like you know what you're doing."

_It's because I do. Not the first time I've been in a gunfight… Unfortunately you guys have sticks and stones and the security's got SMGs…_

"_**Hey you!**__ Quick, the prisoner has escaped!_" A security guard called from the hall, running to the jail room with his police baton out and ready to smack some heads around.

"Mr. Brotch! Get into the cell and keep your head down!" Aimee instructed, watching him do as she said from the corner of her eyes while dropping her bag on the floor and removed Elaine from the holster on her thigh, unloading a few rounds from the magazine into the guard standing in the doorway. He dropped like a spasming fly in front of two other guards who came running in, wielding guns this time. A burst of gunfire rung out in the small room as she grabbed her backpack and slid across the floor to the jail cell, ineffectively shooting back at them before shutting the door and scurrying over to where Mr. Brotch sat below the window, back pressed to the wall with his hands clamped over his ears.

"_Jesus! _It's so _loud!_" He looked to her pleadingly. "Aimee, what are we going to do?"

"Reload her for me!" She called back over the gunfire, tossing him Elaine and the box of rounds to feed her while she dug through her bag, finding what she needed hidden in the folds of her extra clothing. She pulled out a frag grenade. Mr. Brotch stopped feeding Elaine to gawk at the little object with wide eyes and slack jaw.

"I- Is-… _Is __**that-?**_" He pointed at it with a shaky hand.

"Ever seen one of these things?"

He shook his head.

"Ever seen what they can do?"

He shook his head again, still staring at it uneasily and swallowed hard.

"Now is as good a time as any to pick up a few useful things! Rule number 34 out in the Wasteland- if you're overwhelmed by the enemy, this little baby's gonna be your God-given _gift!_"

A loud noise blossomed over their heads as the guards began to shoot at the barred windows, not finding much luck as they were reinforced. Ripples of broken glass spread out over the smooth surface, strained with spider lines as it cracked and spread but didn't give. Aimee covered over Mr. Brotch's head, protecting him as she looked up, waiting for her cue. And then, she heard it- silence- excluding the clicking of the guards reloading their weapons. She got to her feet and faced the cracked barred window, bracing her arm with her other hand at the wrist as she smashed her elbow repeatedly into the center of one of the ripples where a bullet was stuck. It crunched as it weakened- but not enough to shatter and break. She saw one of the guards finish reloading his gun just in time and she ducked down as he opened fire, shattering the window and showering glass down on them. She covered over Mr. Brotch's face with her arms again, getting a few shallow nicks on her arms from the glass shards as they fell around them. Making sure he was fine, she pulled back and placed the grenade's pin between her teeth, yanking it out. Mr. Brotch pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath and closing his eyes- as if waiting for something terrible to happen.

"_Eat __**this **__you __**FUCKS!**_" She shrieked, pushing from the wall and throwing the grenade between two of the bars so it sailed out the window.

She dropped low, grabbing Mr. Brotch by the arm and hauling him down on his belly at her side, both of them burying their heads into their arms as an explosion shook the ground underneath them, fragments whistling into the jail cell over their heads along with more metal, glass, and chunks of flesh. When she was sure the gunfire had dispersed, there were no detections of hostiles outside on her Pip-Boy and she peeked out the window to make sure the guards were indeed dead, she helped Mr. Brotch up from the floor.

"W- Well…" He began shakily, swallowing hard and looked out the window, pulling back with a disgusted grunt at the bloody limbs on the ground. "I don't suppose the G.O.A.T. suspected that the Vault's Chaplain would be able to do _that…_"

"All I would need is a frag grenade, Mr. Brotch." She smirked, grabbing her bag and walked out to help him raid the jail lockers.

_Maybe… You'll sit and sigh- wishing that I were near…_

-:-

_Maybe… You'll ask me, to come back- again- and maybe, I'll say, __**"maybe…"**_

Aimee stood in the middle of the office floor outside of the Overseer's office, just staring at the ground with her hand clasped tightly around Elaine at her side. Her gun rattled with her shaking hand, remembering when she was last in this room.

_Jonas…_ She pulled her backpack to her front side, opening a small pocket and took out something contorted, wrapped in thick, dingy brown cloth. She unraveled it to stare down at a broken pair of glasses- the framing bent with one of the lenses completely gone. It had scratches all over, showing its age and wear.

They were _his _glasses- Jonas'…

_Would you still be alive today if you told them what they wanted to know? Would you still be alive if you hadn't helped da escape? Or would they still have just killed you afterward, out of spite?..._ She wondered, brushing a finger over the still intact lens. _Dad and I- we wouldn't have been upset if you told them anything, I promise. If it kept you safe, we wouldn't have been mad at you. We wouldn't have…_

Aimee flinched upon feeling something roll down her cheek- warm, but uninviting. She swatted at it with the back of her hand quickly, pulling back to see her skin glistening with tears. She wiped her other wet cheek and stifled her sobs, watching whatever she couldn't catch drip down onto Jonas' glasses in her hand.

_But that wasn't like you, was it? It __**isn't **__like you. You were like family to me… The brother I never had…_ She smiled a little, remembering how amazed he was by her drawing skills, confused by her inability to do division as a child because she couldn't understand it one bit, and how he'd tease her (behind her father's back, of course, as he didn't know) about her crush on Freddie Gomez … The last time they spoke was the night before her father's escape. They were talking about how Beatrice was trying to get people to get a tarot card reading from her while Aimee was performing a guidance for a particularly troubled group of Vault Dwellers. The intrusion was not unwanted, as the work she was doing as the Vault Chaplain that day was boring her to tears.

Jonas was a wonderful man, and she'd give anything to have him alive again.

With a shaky sigh, she turned to the desk closest to where Jonas had died, bleeding out from his injuries on the shiny metal floor. She knelt down, completely unwrapping the deformed glasses to place them on the table top and stared straight into them, as if looking into his deep brown eyes once again, and she smiled.

"Dad would be sad to hear that you're gone, JoJo." It was a pet name she gave him when she was younger, and he took it with much affection. "I'm sad too… But I hope you're happy wherever you are, not having to deal with what's going on down here." She stroked the intact lens again. "But are you watching me? Are you watching _us,_ scrambling for freedom down here?"

If anyone had walked in, they'd see her stroking the glasses like a long-lost lover- speaking to it like it was alive and could hear her… Calling it _JoJo…_

Aimee had to remind herself that she still had to talk to Allen Mack, and so she got up from her knees, wiped her face dry and tried to rally herself mentally for the confrontation ahead. She looked to the Overseer door, straightening her stance bravely as she strolled towards it, still holding Elaine as she tucked the cloth that held Jonas' glasses back into the open pocket of her bag, leaving his glasses on the desk where she placed them. She opened the door and stopped in the doorway, finding Mack standing by the window looking down onto the atrium with his hands folded behind his back. He was wearing security armor and a bright red baseball cap.

"Well, look at who came _crawling back _into the Vault…" He spoke snidely, not even sparing her a glance. "Did someone get a little… _homesick?_"

"I had enough of this shithole growing up. The Wasteland was, literally, a breath of fresh air… You should try it sometime. I'm sure the raiders will have _so _much fun tearing your worthless carcass apart." She smiled. "It's just one of those situations where "_pretty please_" just _won't _cut it."

"I have _no _intention of going out _there,_"

"Or letting anyone _else _out for that matter?" She shot back.

He smirked and gave a low, feral chuckle, looking over his shoulder at her. "Well, let's not make this about me… How about we talk about _you?_ You've been away from us for_ so_ long Aimee, how's life outside? It must have been _terrible_ if you're here again, like a mangy lost puppy, trying to find her way home… _Or maybe __**daddy dearest **__didn't want you anymore?_ That was the reason why he left in the first place, correct? Why would we even _think _about wanting you back here when your own _father _didn't even want you?"

_Oh __**ouch, **__you callous little __**prick. **__If you wanna play hardball, I'll fucking __**play **__hardball._

"My father is a good man- not like _you _would know anything about being a respected man." He frowned. "Ever walked the hallways after coming into power, Allen? These people aren't afraid of you. They're _laughing _at you. Your own _kids _are laughing at you. Everyone sees you as _nothing _but a pathetic little bug, and they've called an exterminator." She waved her gun at him, but he still remained unfazed despite his frown.

"Do _not _refer to me so… _informally._" He growled. "I am your Overseer!"

"You don't mean anything more to me then something a radroach would eat," She raised an eyebrow. "Besides, I thought we already established I'm not _"Vault material._" I'm not a part of this little experiment anyways, am I right? My father and I came from outside. We are the unexpected variables that fucked up the Vault's experiment."

"Your father wasn't the _first _person to open the Vault." He stated coolly.

"Yes, that maybe true…" She grinned. "But we were the first to be accepted from the outside after hundreds of years of not letting anything in that wasn't supposed to be here. You were never my Overseer, Allen. Why should I treat you like one?"

"Ah, that's right… Alphonse was still in power when you left, I _completely _forgot." He smirked again, brows creasing together above his sharp eyes. "He was your Overseer, before you found out the truth… A shame how he died, isn't it?"

"Damn shame. May he rest in peace in whatever flaming pit he's reserved in hell."

"Aw, that's no way to talk about your best friend's father, now is it?"

"I sometimes forget they're related… You know, she's fighting for these people's freedom- he was fighting for these people's isolation. Kinda throws you for a loop."

"Well, no need to worry about _him _anymore, now is there?" Allen tapped his chin in thought, speaking in almost a _knowing_ and _smug _voice. "You know, I never thought about it, but I wonder if he died a slow and _painful_ death… He was trapped in a fire, you know."

"I'm aware." Her chest was suddenly pricked by a needle. What was _that?_

"Explosions broke out all over the place that day… Still do, in fact. It wasn't a surprise to anyone. Well, not anyone but his little bitch of a daughter."

She furrowed her brows together. "_You watch your mouth about Amata,_" She warned through gritted teeth. There was another prick of a needle at her chest.

"You know, explosions happen at random. No one would have thought that it wasn't, well- an _accident…_ No one would have guessed that it was on _purpose._"

Another prick of a needle. She didn't like this. Not _one _bit.

"You've got something to say, Allen?"

"Do _you _think I have something to say? I don't think I do." He answered back, grinning like a maniac.

"Confess your sins unto me, my son," She recited, something she was taught in one of her lessons from the old Vault chaplain, Father Matheson. "Confess your sins of sending a poor unfortunate soul to the fiery pits of hell by your own hands… Covered in blood, ash, and filth- are they not? _You just can't see it._"

He took a step toward her, picking up his bat by the handle- it had rested against one of the filing cabinets by the window.

"No one would be surprised if another explosion went off, followed by a massive fire… No one would be surprised to find a little charred body afterwards. No one would be able to tell that her daddy didn't want her anymore." He dragged the bat across the floor. "_**No **__one would be able to tell that her face was smashed in and she had a few broken bones…_"

Aimee stepped back in alarm, eyes widening as she held up Elaine, pointing straight at him.

"Not going to be any more fun for you to overlord these people when you're _dead,_ Mack. Think about what you're doing." She warned. "I was out in the Wasteland for a _year,_ what makes you think you'll win this fight?"

He stroked the bat, creating a wispy-paperlike sound as his rough skin smoothed down over it. He smiled at it affectionately, as if it were a new born baby. Instead of answering her, he suddenly lunged forward, howling like a deranged animal. Aimee stepped back and ducked out of the way in time, jumping back and holding her gun back up to shoot him. Elaine clicked, but nothing came out.

"Sh- _Shit!_" Elaine was jammed.

"What makes _you _think you'll win this fight with a jammed gun?" Allen asked cruelly, yelling out as he swung at her again.

She got low and pushed herself forward on the balls of her feet, sliding past his leg to land on her side on the ground in front of the desk. Scrambling to get up, and out of instinct when she heard him turn around to swing at her again, she threw Elaine at his face. A loud, gnarly crunch was heard as the gun smashed into his nose, clattering to the ground. Allen stumbled back, landing on his rump with his bat at his side. Aimee picked herself up hurriedly, leaping over the desk to have her foot catch on the edge as she went sailing over and she landed on her shoulder ungracefully. Ignoring the pain, she hid under the desk, clutching her backpack to her panicked chest. She suddenly wished she hadn't thrown her _only_ gun…

_I am __**so **__fucked…_ She dared not peek over when she heard Allen grown, struggling to get himself up.

"I can't _wait _to watch you burn, you little _whore!_" He roared beastly, groaning again as he touched his nose lightly. "Watch your eyes melt out of your sockets, your very skin _sliding _off your bones as you scream in agony…"

The mental image made Aimee freeze up, her breath coming even faster as her heart pounded in her chest. She quickly rifled through her bag, trying to find _something _that would give her the upper hand.

_O- Oh my __**God.**__ You watched Alphonse burn when you killed him, __**didn't you?**__ You didn't even bother to think about the child he was going to leave behind! You're going to burn me and watch too, aren't you? You're going to stand there and smile, watching me burn to death… Watching me __**die…**_

Her hand came into contact with something cold, and metal.

"_Now is as good a time as any to pick up a few useful things! Rule number 34 out in the Wasteland- if you're overwhelmed by the enemy, this little baby's gonna be your God-given __**gift!**__"_

A smile slowly formed on her face as a smile formed on her lips.

"That self-righteous _sonofabitch_ didn't _deserve _to be Overseer!" Allen called, finally getting up from the floor and he grabbed his bat, looking around for Aimee. She was nowhere in sight. "He wanted to continue that damned experiment Vault 101 was given 200 _long years ago._ He wasn't looking for what the Vault needed, so I did what would be best for everyone- _I got rid of him._"

"Oh, you don't have to explain yourself to _me,_ Allen!" Aimee giggled from somewhere in the room. His eyes darted around. It sounded like she was _everywhere…_ In the cabinets, in the terminals, in the walls… "Admit it- the only reason why you killed Alphonse was because you wanted to know what it was like to rule over people."

_She's in my skin- that little cunt is in my __**head!**_

"_I'm looking out for the Vault! __**He didn't!**_" He roared, stepping forward cautiously.

_Talk in my head again you little __**bitch.**__ I'll find you- I'll root you out and burn you alive… Maybe I'll cut you up into little pieces- let the radroaches pick at that pretty little face of yours first. Why let good flesh go to waste? No one will know it was me… __**No one will know it was me.**_

"You're afraid."

_Get out of the __**walls!**_

"You're afraid of going outside so you don't leave."

_Get out of my __**skin!**_

"But you don't want to be alone, do you?"

_**Get out of my HEAD!**_

"You don't want _everyone else _leaving you here alone just because _you're _afraid and _they're __**not.**_"

_**Get OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT GET OUT GETOUT GETOUT GETOUT! **__Scrub it clean, she was wrong! There's no blood on my hands- there's no ash- __**no! Get OUT GET OUT GETOUT!**_

"_Shut __**up **__you miserable brat!_" He yelled. _There. Behind the desk!_ He stepped forward, then took another step forward. Just one more, and he'd be at the desk.

"You know, my dad always told me that when one speaks the truth people will react in two ways… They will either fall silent, or they will become angry. Am I speaking the truth yet, Allen? Are you afraid of being alone?"

_**GET OUT you fucking PARASITE! Get out of my HEAD! Get OUT of my-**_

"_Am I in your head yet, Allen?_" She called in a taunting, singsong voice- then laughed.

"_I'm going to __**KILL YOU**__ you maggot-infested __**whore!**_ _Get __**OUT **__of my __**head!**_" He screamed as he jumped over the table, landing on his hands and knees before picking himself up so he was kneeling down, bringing his bat high above his head.

But there was no one there. All that remained at his knees was a circular object- metal with thin black rings around the top, a bulbous red light in the center. It suddenly beeped, almost deafening in his mind, and it began to flash- the bulbous red light flashing on and off in tune with the beeping, like an ominous warning.

_Tha- That-?..._ Allen wondered, staring down at it. He turned his head up to see Aimee running towards the door, backpack hanging from her shoulder as she stumbled while plucking up her gun from the floor, regaining her balance to continue running. Her chocolate curls gliding behind her as she ran, only one thought struck his mind.

"_Am I in your head yet, Allen?"_

_Am I in your head yet?_

_Am I in your head?_

_In your head…_

_**I'm in your head.**_

Allen did not scream as the frag mine exploded in his face, shredding away at his mouth so he couldn't scream, piercing through his lungs so he couldn't breathe, slicing at his legs so he couldn't run away… They ripped through his being like a thousand little red hot pokers, but at the same time, he couldn't feel how much it hurt- tearing at his skin, pulling at his flesh, making its home in his bones… A metal parasite- _**a parasite like Aimee**__, in his __**head.**_ And in moments, he was strung across the floor- nothing more but dead limbs and skin and flesh and bone across the ground.

_I just didn't want to be __**alone…**_

Aimee continued to run, a sharp sting- a prick of a needle- darting through her chest. Wait, no… It was a lot sharper. A lot more painful. She cried out as she tumbled forward from the impact of something piercing through her. Elaine slid across the floor, pack flung upwards from her shoulder and sailed over her head as she went head over heels and slammed into the wall across from the office. Her heart dropped into her stomach, mouth contorted into a savage scream as she looked down at her chest, staring at the blood pooling there. A sharp fragment poked out of the wound on her chest, right where the scar Alphonse had given her was. The problem was that it was _bigger._ It looked like the head of a worm, poking its head out of its home in a crisp red apple, covered in sweet juices…

Aimee slid to the ground, clawing at the floor as her vision began to blur and flare, dimming before she forced herself to open her eyes again. She heard the patter of feet- two pairs of booted feet. Their voices sounded so distorted and alienlike. She didn't know who it was.

"_Fuck, Aimee!_" Someone dropped to their knees in her vision, a hand gripping her shoulder. "_Oh shit, she's hurt! She's bleeding!"_

"_Holy __**shit!**__ Is that Mack? Wally's gonna be fucking __**pissed! **__His old man got blown to smithereens!"_

"_The __**fuck **__does it matter, Gomez? Help me get her up- we gotta take her back to HQ!"_

"_Oh my God… There's so much blood… Oh my **God-** what the fuck is __**that! **__Butch, I'm gonna hurl!"_

"_Don't barf on my shoes or I'll fucking __**clock **__you! Don't barf on her, either! Now shut the hell up and grab her legs! Grab her stuff, too!"_

Aimee was suddenly lifted up from the ground, carried by two pairs of strong arms, safely drawn into a strong chest as she was carried out of the room. Her vision began to fade, escalating into nothingness as she twisted her head to the side, trying to stay awake. Sitting there, on the desk, was _someone _with dark skin... Black glasses with straight frames, both lenses gleaming at her- no longer broken, missing, or scratched up- framing a pair of dark brown eyes. Jonas smiled at her, giving a friendly wave with his arms crossed over his chest.

"_It's not like you to leave these people behind, is it kiddo?"_

Her head lolled back as she passed out in Butch's arms, suddenly feeling so cold and everything was completely black and dark and… welcoming. Jonas' voice sang contentedly in her head.

_Maybe… You'll ask me, to come back- again- and maybe, I'll say, __**"maybe…"**_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, I KNOOOOOW! I made Allen Mack LITERALLY bat-shit INSANE in this... This wasn't a "just because" kind of thing. I honestly think that there has to be some level of crazy for what he did to Alphonse, because no SANE person would burn another alive just to overlord over only a handful of people... Okay, SOME might e_o Anyways, I hope it wasn't too crazy with you! Because I sometimes wonder if I overshot it... Oh WELLLLL xD**

**~Konfessionist out!~**


	40. CHP 40: Blind Sided

**A/N: Pretty freakin' LONG chapter ahead of you, my dear readers! (20 pages, opposed to the usual 5, 6, and sometimes 7 or 8 if I'm feeling ambitious) There's too much drama going on down in that damn Vault, and I don't want to break it up into a MILLION freaking chapters... So I crammed it into about 3 xD lmao. That, and also because once I got to writing, I just couldn't see it being broken down into all these little chapters for you guys Sorry if it makes it more difficult for you to process it! D:**

**Anywho, please do not think that I'm posthing this chapter early! Saturday has become my new "update" day opposed to Tuesday for my readers who are in school, and for me as well because sometimes it's difficult for me to update or even _remember _to update (but I manage to anyways) because shit gets busy up on this side of the computer! HEH 3**

**So all that aside... Well, you know the usual.**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee heard distorted voices looming around her before she could feel the pain wringing her spine into knots- traveling in her shoulder, piercing through her flesh and bone, <em>wriggling <em>and _writhing _like a living thing under her flesh that made her legs want to twitch and kick and her mouth contort into a horrid scream.

"_You expect __**me **__to know what's wrong with her? I'm not a __**doctor **__like her old man!"_

"_Well __**you **__and Freddie were the ones who found her! You should know what happened!"_

She blacked out again, trying to blink away the darkness but she couldn't tell if she was actually blinking or not. Everything felt heavy… She wanted to flail, turn her head, open her mouth and _speak, scream, _make a simple _noise-_ to let them know that she was okay. Wait- _was _she okay?

"_She k- ki- killed Mack…" _Another voice trembled, coming to the other two. _"I saw hi- his __**body…**__ Amata he was __**everywhere!**__ On the walls, the ceiling… He got- he was-… Oh fuck, I gotta hurl again!"_ Freddie ran out of the room quickly.

"_She __**killed **__the Overseer?"_ Amata screeched, and Aimee went black again- coming to once more to hear a robotic voice.

"_Why don't you allow __**me **__to look at her? I __**am **__a qualified doctor- well, I was "fired…" But the Overseer is gone now, as Mr. Gomez has stated, and I hereby give myself the position as Vault Physician!"_

"_Sure thing, rust bucket." _Butch replied.

"_**NO!**__ Andy, get __**out!**__ You're __**not **__helping!"_

"Sti- Stimpak…" Aimee tried to speak. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, feeling like nothing but a dry ball of cotton. She was cold, she was sweaty… Too much blood gone- _too much… Charon __**please **__don't be mad at me. It wasn't my fault!_ "Blo- Blood pack…"

"_What'd she say?"_ Butch asked.

_It wasn't my fault, Charon!_

"_Stimpak- and… and a blood pack, I think! Go outside and get me a few of each!"_

_Don't you believe me?..._

"_**What?**__ I'm not your errand boy!"_

_I'm sorry…_

"_Butch, so help me __**God **__I will throw you out of this Vault on your scaly ass!"_

_I'm __**so **__sorry…_

"_Go ahead! It's not like I want to be here, anyways!"_

_Ch- Charon…_ She was getting drowsy again. She forced her eyes open.

"_**GET ME THE FUCKIN' SUPPLIES!**__" _Amata wailed. The Serpent King quickly made his way out, and Aimee could feel a warm hand stroke her cheek. _"It's going to be okay, Aimee… I'm going to try and help you. Can you hear me? What happened?"_

_**Charon…**_

"J- Jo-…" Aimee murmured.

_I'm going to die._

"_Jo-? Jo __**what?**__"_

_I'm going to die here._

"_What's she sayin'?" _Butch asked as he came back in. There was a bunch of low, muffled, shuffling noises as they moved around. Something thin and sharp was suddenly slid into the crook of her elbow- probably the blood pack.

_I'm going to die here all alone._

"_I don't know- MeeMee, what are you trying to say?"_ Amata asked worriedly, a dark figure looming over her shoulder. Was that Butch? No- he was on the other side of her… Who was that behind Amata? Mr. Brotch? Freddie? Wait, Freddie left, didn't he?... Then it was Mr. Brotch. Why wasn't he _saying _anything?

_C- Ch- Charon…_

"J- Jo- _Jonas…"_

_I'm so scared._

"I saw him…

_**So **__scared without you…_

"_I saw him…_"

_I need you._

Aimee's world went black again as she felt something sharp plunge into her chest, like a serrated blade heated till it was white-hot. The last thing she remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was letting out an ear-shattering pitch of a shriek, crying out for Charon to come and protect her from the pain plaguing her body.

-:-

Aimee slowly cracked her eyes open, the light positioned above her head seemed to sway in her vision. No, it was only doubling. She twisted her head to the side to keep her eyes away from it, looking up to find that she was alone in her father's office. She was lying on top of his desk, the wood saturated with blood that wasn't hers- probably Beatrice's from an hour ago… Wait, it couldn't have been that short of a time ago. It was longer than that- _wasn't it?_

She forced her arm up to look at her Pip-Boy, believing that she would have trouble but it gave her no problem- the limb floating, feeling as light as air as she looked at the time. Her eyes widened in shock.

_I came down here at-… I don't remember…_

"Charon, what time did we get here?..." She murmured hoarsely, closing her eyes. She cracked them open again when she got no reply. "Charon?"

He wasn't there, standing over her with a sliver of worry for her pricking him in the eyes. Instead, what was staring back at her was her mother's favorite passage- still framed in the dingy gold picture frame like nothing had changed.

She had forgotten that she told Charon to stay topside and wait for her.

…She was alone.

Aimee willed herself to get up, looking down to see an I.V. needle jutting out of the crook of her elbow, the long tube twisting and turning to end at a pack of blood. It was empty. She yanked out the needle, finding that the torso of her armor had been removed and lay on the floor at her side. The strap of her undershirt was cut and she pulled back the bloody fabric- a square of thick gauze lay on her chest, over her heart. A hardened splotch of dark crimson was there, and all she did was stare at it. It was there behind her eyelids every time she closed them- snapping up like a picture burned into her pupils. She dare not touch the hardened splotch of dark crimson, she knew it would hurt like a bitch…

So why did she touch it anyways?

She felt nothing…

_Fuck… Charon, what did they dose me with? Med-X? No- it numbs the nerves completely… They'd need enough Med-X to numb my very sense of touch, but I can still move my limbs just fine… It's just the shock. The shock and the exhaustion._ She decided.

"Holy _shit!_ She's awake! She's fuckin' _awake!_" Aimee looked up in time to see Freddie in hazy vision- darting away from the doorway and into the main room of the clinic.

_How long were you standing there?..._ She slowly slid her knees over the edge of the desk, trying to straighten her posture but she slumped onto her elbows, propped on her thighs. In only a few moments, he came back with Butch and Amata, Old Lady Palmer and Mr. Brotch, and one or two other heads poked over their shoulders in an attempt to get a peek. Amata stood all the way at the front with Freddie at her side. Butch stood behind the both of them, and then followed everyone else.

"A- _Aimee…_" Amata murmured, clenched fists trembling at her sides with tears sparking in her blue eyes.

"_Explosions broke out all over the place that day… Still do, in fact. It wasn't a surprise to anyone. Well, not anyone but his little bitch of a daughter."_

She looked away from her childhood friend, head sinking down as low as her shoulders so she was staring down at her lap. Her hands were trembling… She was shaking all over. Her mouth was dry. Her vision was blurry…

"I couldn't convince him." She finally looked up at Amata, blinking away the blurriness of her vision. "I told you if I couldn't, then it would turn violent. "If the words are down, then the fists are up."

Amata bit her bottom lip hard, brows furrowed together as if she were thinking hard.

"I don't believe you. There could have been something _else _that you could have done… I _know _you!"

"You don't know me anymore…" She waved the words away uncaringly, pushing herself off the table and wobbled a bit before gaining her balance.

"I'll get her something to eat…" Old Lady Palmer announced.

"No need." Aimee replied tightly, dropping to the floor where her armor was and reached out for it. "Just get me my bag."

"Wait- you're _leaving?_ But you just got here, Leo!" Mr. Brotch exclaimed sadly.

"She did what she came to do." Amata spoke up, with all eyes coming to her. "Her work is done. If she wants to leave, she can leave."

After a few moments, she added on something else.

"…But it's not like I'm letting her stay."

"What the _fuck_ Amata!" Butch cried, glaring at her angrily. "She just _saved _our asses! And you wanna kick her out?"

"That's _exactly _what I intend to do!" She yelled back, reciprocating the glare he was giving her. "She killed one of our own- I asked her not to, practically _begged _her not to. Allen Mack may not have known what was best for Vault 101, but he tried. He didn't mean to kill anyone."

"_No one would be surprised if another explosion went off, followed by a massive fire… No one would be surprised to find a little charred body afterwards. No one would be able to tell that her daddy didn't want her anymore. __**NO one would be able to tell that her face was smashed in and she had a few broken bones…"**_

"_I can't __**wait **__to watch you burn, you little __**whore!**__ Watch your eyes melt out of your sockets, your very skin __**sliding**__ off your bones as you scream in agony…"_

"_That self-righteous __**sonofabitch **__didn't __**deserve**__ to be Overseer! He wanted to continue that damned experiment Vault 101 was given 200 __**long years ago**__. He wasn't looking for what the Vault needed, so I did what would be best for everyone- __**I got rid of him**__."_

Aimee bit her tongue. _"He didn't mean to kill anyone,"…_ Oh, how _wrong _Amata was. Did she really have no clue? Did she _really _have no clue that her father was killed by Allen so he could become Overseer?

She took her armor top and began to slip her arms into the long sleeves. It reached down to her wrists, with little fingerless gloves sewn into the cuffs. She cringed at the pain of maneuvering her shoulder- the pain was starting to come back.

"What did you _do _to me?" She asked, pulling her arms back out of her armor sleeves and looked down at the thick wad of bloodied gauze.

Freddie opened his mouth to speak but Amata raised her hand in a "stop" gesture. He closed his lips tightly and looked away. Obviously, as new Overseer, Amata was going to make sure that she was the one to do business with any _outsiders._

"We don't know how you were injured, but we found a metal fragment sticking out of your chest so we pulled it out with tweezers. Then we used the Stimpak, and used a blood pack to replace all the blood you lost from bleeding out while Butch and Freddie brought you to us."

As Amata gave her explanation, Aimee peeled away the gauze to find that the wound had opened up again. The whole wasn't as big as earlier when she saw it before blacking out outside of the Overseer's office, but it was still pretty big, and the skin was jagged all around it. It didn't look like it was healing properly, even _with _the help of a Stimpak.

_F- Fuck… I was hit by that __**fucking **__frag mine I used…_ She seethed inwardly, throwing her armor top at the floor and cringed at how much it hurt her shoulder. She gripped it, clenching her eyes tightly shut and bit down on her lower lip _hard_ to keep from yelling out. _There's probably still more in my shoulder… It would explain why it isn't healing the right way, and I'm not able to remove the rest of the fragments myself. Charon will have to do it… __**Fuck.**__ He's going to be __**pissed **__at me…_

"Where's my bag?" Aimee demanded, leaning over to grab her armor top and when it was in her possession she got up and turned around. "The sooner I get my shit together, the sooner I can get the _fuck _out of here."

"You can't leave, Aimee!" Freddie exclaimed. "Not after you just helped us like that!"

"_Overseer's orders._" She answered snidely, staring at Amata.

"Well Amata doesn't know _what the fuck _she's talking about!" Butch answered, still glaring at Amata as well. "You're fucking crazy, aren't you? There's no _way _you can be Overseer!"

"Well, she is. Alphonse is dead, so is Allen- and there's no one left in this Vault who's better at leading people than Amata is." She argued. Why was she arguing in the defense of someone who was throwing her back outside? It didn't matter- she _wanted _to leave… But it was the fact that Amata was so _fucking _dense. Her eyes practically _screamed _"_You're a crazy bitch."_

Mr. Brotch passed Aimee her backpack and she took it with a pleasant nod, poking through one of her pockets to find a syringe of Med-X. _Half a dose through the chest- should be right as rain... I need it. I can't go on like this. Need to numb some of the pain so I don't look like __**complete **__shit when I come back to Charon._

"Why can't _you_ be Overseer?..." Butch asked quietly, looking back at her now.

The eyes of all the Rebels fell upon him, whispers wafting up into the air in confusion, fear, and some happened to agree with him. But the whispers fell away when Amata spoke up again.

"Because she's a _murderer._ She killed one of our own- she's an _outsider._ She can't stay. Especially when some of the others down here have a problem with her being around. There's still going to be some hard feelings, even at a year later."

Aimee narrowed her eyes. "_Killed one of your __**own? **_Don't you have _any _idea what Allen did to your fa-"

Her sentence was cut off as Amata stepped forward and slapped her across the face. _Hard._ The Med-X syringe slipped out of her hand, her backpack clattered onto the floor and some of her belongings spilled out of the mouth of it, her legs twisted out from under her so she landed on the floor. She wasn't strong enough to withhold the attack. She placed a gentle hand to her stinging cheek and look up at her.

"Y- You _killed _him! I told you _not to! I __**begged **__you not to!_" She pointed down at her angrily. "_**YOU- **__you are a __**fucking **__murderer! You are a crazy __**murderer!**_"

She shrieked in terror as Aimee lunged up from the floor silently, forcing her onto her back in the center of the crowd of Rebels with Aimee sitting on her stomach to keep her pinned and her head connected with the floor. One hand came up and swiftly pinned both of her arms high above her head, while the syringe of Med-X that Aimee had dropped was held to the hallow of her smooth throat. Amata looked up into her neutral grey eyes, and saw just that- neutral. Indifference. Nothing at all.

"Watch what you say… Because one day you'll probably find that what you say is right and you say it to the wrong person, Amata…" She murmured, eyes shining down at her childhood friend through her long, chocolate brown bangs so eerily. "I _am _a murderer. I know that. It's not something that's new to me- it's not something that surprises me- but for you to have the fucking _nerve_ to slap me across the face after I just _saved _this Vault from dying out… I'm a murderer, and you-"

"_Explosions broke out all over the place that day… Still do, in fact. It wasn't a surprise to anyone. Well, not anyone but his little bitch of a daughter."_

Aimee suddenly went silent as she held the syringe high above her head, staring down into Amata's eyes.

_Do you have __**any **__idea what I just did for you, Amata?..._

"Do you know what happens if you inject Med-X in the right place of someone's neck?... It can paralyze their nerves, their muscles- _everything_… You could say it could completely cut away any chance for you to breathe."

"Ge- _Get her __**off **__me!_" Amata pleaded, holding her arms up in front of her face to protect it from the blow. But before anyone could step forward, the syringe came colliding down and connected with the shiny metal floor, only inches away from Amata's wet, sniveling face. The needle bent and broke off from the impact, sliding away, and Aimee dropped the long metal pump.

_Any idea at all?... What I just did for you?_

"…I'm a murderer," She spoke quietly, getting up but barely being able to keep herself up over the crying girl beneath her. She wasn't her friend anymore. They were two completely different people, now… They might as well have been strangers. "But _you_ Amata… You're Overseer now." She turned away, stumbling to the desk to gain her balance and sunk her head down. "It's decided. You're Overseer."

_I avenged your father- for reasons that are still unclear to me…_

Freddie quickly came over and helped Amata off the floor, giving her a sympathetic glance while staring at Aimee with complete shock in his face.

_Why did I avenge the man that I hate?_

He took her away, but not before she pulled back and turned to Aimee, still sniveling and hiccupping and sobbing.

_Why would I avenge the man that shot me as a parting gift?..._

"J- Just _get __**out!**_ As Overseer, I demand that you get the _hell __**out **__of here! Take what you need and __**go! LEAVE! I don't want to see your face around here EVER again!**_"

_Don't you know that your father was murdered, and I killed his murderer? Just for you?... But I'm happy to leave… I'm happy to leave you all behind. I'm happy to know that I did something good and got fucking blind-sided yet __**fucking **__again._

Then, as Vault 101's new Overseer, Amata strolled out with puffy red eyes, quivering lips, her hair a mess, and her head held high.

_You'll never know… Because you'll __**never **__believe me. You'd never believe a murderer._

The crowd of Rebels parted as she strode through it, all of them giving Aimee one last look before breaking off. Freddie and Butch stayed.

_It's better you keep thinking that your father died like a man instead of murdered like a victim…_

Freddie looked back and forth between Aimee and his leader. Butch only continued to stare at her thoughtfully.

"Well. You sure showed _her-_ fuck, it was about damn time." He commented, leaning into the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest.

She remained silent as she knelt down and began to gather her things back into her pack. Freddie stood as still as a statue, too afraid to come and help her and of course Butch couldn't care any less.

"Did anyone touch the safe?" She asked once her pack was full and she clasped it shut with the drawstring.

"What safe?"

She pointed to the frame quote on the far wall. She had noticed it not too long after waking up.

"Oh, that one… No. No one was able to, not even me. And I'm pretty good at breaking into shit." He answered, smoothing his gelled hair so no strands stuck out of place. "What's in it?"

"My dad told me it was emergency supplies. He gave me the code in case I needed anything for one reason or another…" She got up from the floor, with no struggle this time but her arm was still screaming at her in agony, begging for attention. She pulled the quote off the wall, taking a moment to read it aloud.

"_**Revelation 21:6… **__I am Alpha, and Omega. The beginning, and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely."_

With a small smile on her face, she removed the quote from the frame as well as she could with only one hand (she didn't want to agitate her other arm) and slid it into the input slot of her Pip-Boy. Once her Pip-Boy registered the new document, she turned back to the safe and punched in the code.

_**2-1-6.**_

The light turned from red to green and beeped three times with admittance before coming open. She poked inside, finding nothing but a sizeable drawstring bag that bulged with oddly shaped objects, a rolled up piece of paper, a large stack of holotapes, and a medical bobble head. Her smile widened upon the bobble head, and she pulled it out to gaze at it before turning it over to see the inscription on the bottom.

"_The smart man knows a bandage only hides his wounds."_

Aimee snorted, recalling her father using it once… She didn't remember the situation he had used it for, but it was sort of funny. Her father gave brilliant advice, but to hear that some of that brilliance came from a _bobble head?..._

_I miss you dad…_ She lightly fingered the giant syringe the bobble head was holding. _I'll find you and everything will be okay because I know you're alive…_

He turned and threw her bag onto the desk she woke up on, opening it again to slip the Pip-Boy into it. She turned back to the safe and began pulling out the other items. She opened up the drawstring bag- surprised to find that it was _filled _with bottle caps. It'd take a long time for her to count them out! She pulled out her lunch box and dumped them in, finding that there wasn't enough room and any excess remained in the drawstring bag. She grabbed the rolled up piece of paper, unfurling it and saw a very detailed sketching of what the blueprint labeled the invention to be a _Rock-It! _Launcher. She'd have fun putting _this _together… And last but not least, she took out all the holotapes. There was about-…

She took the time to count.

Seven in all- and each had a different label… She read the first one.

_Mockingbird; Ca-_ her eyes widened, and she read it over again. _Ca- __**Catherine?... **__That- That's mom's name!_

She quickly looked over the labels of the other ones. _I'm Making Believe; Catherine and Me. Easy Living; Catherine. Daddy's Little Girl; Me. Till Then; Me. Glowworm;-_ her lips broke out into a silly grin at remembering her nickname from Charon- _Catherine. _And last, but not least- _Home Sweet Home._ The problem was, the holotape didn't depict who was in the recording… Aimee almost had to assume that all of them were songs. She heard of _Easy Living_ before, it was by Billie Holiday, but the others she had never heard of before… So she slipped that one into her Pip-Boy and listened to it play, sitting on the edge of the desk by her pack.

"_Is this thing on?_" She grinned at her father's voice. _"Hello? Testing- Testing…"_

"_James, it's on!" _A woman giggled in the background. "_See? The red light's flashing."_

"_Oh, I see it now…"_

The woman laughed again. _"You're able to install radiation filters __**blindfolded **__but you can't use a recorder properly?"_

"_I suppose I can't," _He chuckled. _"Which is why I am so glad that I have you to help me…"_

"_J- James! That tickles!"_ The woman's voice chittered as she giggled. Aimee finally felt the tears roll down her cheeks as she realized that the woman was her _mother…_ It was her _mother's _voice… She had seen pictures before- and her mother was beautiful. She had short black hair, dark skin, and although the picture wouldn't show (because it was black and white), Aimee had inherited her grey eyes from her mother… Her father always said that her mother's beauty was blinding. She agreed with him.

"_How are you feeling today, my love?"_

"_A little nausea this morning, but nothing some stale crackers couldn't fix."_

"_Your bump's getting bigger,"_

"_Well that's what happens when a woman's pregnant!" _She laughed._ "Low and behold, your child, James… He's going to be handsome, just like his father."_

"_Or beautiful- just like her mother… Oh! I felt her kick!"_

"_How do you know she's a girl?" _Aimee could hear the smile in her mother's voice.

"_We don't. That's half the surprise. The other half is trying to raise her. Or him… Oh my, she's kicking up a storm!"_

"_Energetic- __**just like her father. **__Proves it's a boy!" _Her mother laughed.

"_Maybe you should sing to her?"_

"_Tell that to the foot that's stuck in my ribcage…"_

Her father laughed, and there was a slight rustle as he sounded far away before coming back again.

"_Here, take the microphone."_

"_What? Why?"_

"_I want to record your singing, Catherine… You have a lovely voice. You know that."_

She groaned playfully, trying to stifle a giggle. _"Fiiiine."_

"_**That's **__my girl."_

"_What should I sing?"_

"_How about your favorite song? That one by Billie Holiday?"_

"_Easy Living?"_

"_Yes- that one."_

The noise over the tape rustled before her mother cleared her throat and began to sing.

"_Living for you- is easy living. It's easy to live, when you're in love- and I'm __**so **__in love- there's nothing in life but __**you…**__"_

Aimee's lips parted in awe, brows furrowing together as more tears slid down her cheeks… Her mother's voice- the one thing she never had growing up… Her voice would make you believe that angels existed.

"_I never regret, the years that I'm giving, they're easy to give- when you're in love. I'm happy to do, __**whatever **__I do for __**you.**__ For you- maybe I'm a __**fool **__but it's fun. People say you __**rule **__me with one- wave of your hand- darling it's __**grand… And they just don't understand. **__Living, for you- is easy living. It's easy to live, when you're in love- and I'm __**so **__in love- there's nothing in life but __**you…**__"_

"_Catherine, that was lovely…"_

She giggled tiredly. _"Seems it put her right to sleep…_" She yawned. _"And I'm getting a little sleepy myself…"_

"_I didn't know it was so late- you should get some rest."_

"_And sleep in this cold, __**lonely **__bed?" _She hinted playfully.

He sighed with amusement. _"Alright, alright. I'm coming- let me just turn this thing-_" The holotape ended.

Aimee sat in complete silence, staring down at the glowing face of her Pip-Boy as her ears barely registered booted feet clopping up to her side. She looked up, baring to Butch the tears streaking down her face.

"…Did you ever find him?"

She looked away, shaking her head once.

"N- No… I was on my way to another lead when I got Amata's transmission." She quickly fed the other holotapes into her Pip-Boy, putting the hard copies into her pack and pulled it from the table.

"Wait- you're leaving _now?_"

Aimee nodded. "Of course I am. Amata said I had to leave- she's Overseer now, and-"

"_So fucking __**what!**_" He cried.

"_And-_ she's right. The Rebels might be okay with me hanging around, but what about everyone else?"

"_Fuck _everyone else…" He murmured.

"I appreciate your worry," She quirked an eyebrow. "Look, the longer we keep fighting about this the more Charon will feel like he needs to come down here. And he probably _will _come down here and get me."

"He's outside?" Freddie asked worriedly- probably thinking that if _Aimee _was like this after only a year of living outside, he didn't want to know what Charon was like…

"Yes, he is. _Right _outside, actually. Past Vault 101's steel door is a cavern. At the end of the cavern is a wooden door leading outside. That's where I told him to stay and- well… He's pretty loyal. He's not going to move, even though I told him to go back to our home in Megaton." She wiped her face dry and grabbed her pack by the strap, throwing it onto her good shoulder. She could make do without the Med-X. She just wouldn't use her arm, move her arm… Or even _touch _her arm. "We agreed that if I don't come back in a few hours, than he would come down here. He _does _know the code, after all…"

"Hey, that reminds me," Butch began. "Not too long ago- like a few weeks or somethin', I don't remember- some guys tried contacting the Vault. 'Bout three of 'em."

"Some guys?" She blinked up at him. "Oh, probably raiders that wondered into the cavern or something… I know that they have a hideout over in Springvale- it's only a fifteen minute walk from the Vault entrance. I wiped out their group, but more keep coming back… I know that they tried digging their way underground to the Vault, but their numbers got nailed by a nesting ground for mutated ants." She scratched her head.

"…I'm not even going to ask." He looked at her strangely. "Well, yeah. They were at the front door. Allen said that they tried talkin' to him from the intercom console outside, but he wasn't lettin' them in and we weren't to go near the door either. That was when he put up the barricades and got some really _heavy _guard patrols. He was fuckin' pissin' his pants thinking that those guys were gonna get in, but when he said no they left without another word."

"Wait- they used the intercom?" He nodded, and she bit her lip. _Raiders don't do that… They're too damn stupid to know how to work it. Even so, they don't like being told __**"no." **__They wouldn't just leave like that. They'd make some noise._ "What else did they say?"

"Said they were called "The Oncave" or "Ensave" or _something…_ Some sorta cool, badass name." He answered with a shrug. "I just don't remember what it was."

Aimee gave a weak sigh. "Nothing to worry about- probably just some mercenarys. They usually give themselves team names like that, and they always travel in groups of three. They're nothing to worry about, because they're never going to get in here."

* * *

><p>"The office is all clean, Overseer." Andy spoke as he hovered out of the Overseer's office, speaking in a drawl and not-so-thrilled voice.<p>

"Th- Thanks, Andy…" Amata murmured, poking her head in to find that the office space was now spick and span. Not a spot in place… And she was thankful, especially with the scene that she walked in on… Blood _everywhere, _flesh, bits of charred bone… She shivered gravelly, stepping past the robot.

"Any other orders, Overseer?" He asked as she passed, and he followed her into the office with the door sliding behind him.

"I'm putting you back on maintenance. I want you to take care of any messes that have been created in the Vault- start with the apartments so the residents have a true place to sleep now. But before you do that, I need you to call Stanley in here. I'd also like you to compile a list of the injured and deceased so the books can be updated and we can arrange proper funerals for whatever relatives have survived the chaos that ensued. A head count will also be in order to see how far our numbers have fallen."

"Yes, Overseer." He replied compliantly before hovering out of the room.

She plopped down in the chair behind the arched desk, folding her hands on the top and watched as Andy left. Only when the door shut did she drop her head and press her palms into her teary eyes, biting down on her lip to keep from crying or making any saddened noises.

_I thought I knew who you were. You were my best friend for nineteen __**years **__MeeMee… You left me behind and you changed… The outside world __**made **__you change…_ She pulled her hands back from her eyes. _Will the outside world do that to everyone else down here?_

She shook away the thought. No, everyone was different. Everyone would adapt to the outside world differently- Aimee was a special case because she left to go in search of her father. Aimee was a special case because she was forced to leave and she believed she'd _never _come back. Aimee was-

"…_I'm a murderer,"_

She closed her eyes again, burying them into her circled arms.

"_But __**you,**__ Amata… You're Overseer now. It's decided. You're Overseer."_

Aimee had said it with such- _dejection _in her voice… Like she was at a loss for words- like she just lost a battle that she had spent so much time and effort on and the shock was still trying to sink its way in past the surface.

Amata gave a huff that sounded more like a sigh, spinning back around on her chair to gaze at all the terminal screens. She knew that they worked the cameras in the Vault, there was one in the rooms that had the most activity. The clinic, the reactor level, the classroom, the apartment hallways, the Overseer's office…

A light bulb suddenly flashed brightly above her head.

_I could just locate the tape for the hour Aimee was in here talking to Allen and see if she was telling the truth about trying to talk to him civilly…_ She pulled out the keyboard from the slot, typing in the hour Aimee had come to the Vault. A still image of Allen, standing at the round window with his hands folded behind his back, looking down into the auditorium came up onto the screen. It looked like the camera was positioned in the right corner of the room- the one closest to the door. She pressed the play button to begin the tape and watched closely.

After about four good minutes of waiting, she finally heard the door slide open out of frame.

"_Well, look at who came crawling back into the Vault…"_ The audio of the video crackled as he spoke in a malicious voice. _"Did someone get a little… __**homesick?**__"_

"_I had enough of this shithole growing up_." It was Aimee's voice. _"The Wasteland was, literally, a breath of fresh air… You should try it sometime. I'm sure the raiders will have so much fun tearing your worthless carcass apart. It's just one of those situations where __**"pretty please"**__ just __**won't **__cut it."_

"_I have __**no**__ intention of going out __**there,"**_

"_Or letting anyone __**else**__ out for that matter?"_

He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her. "_Well, let's not make this about me… How about we talk about __**you?**__ You've been away from us for __**so**__ long Aimee, how's life outside? It must have been __**terrible**__ if you're here again, like a mangy lost puppy, trying to find her way home… __**Or maybe**_**daddy dearest **_**didn't want you anymore?**__ That was the reason why he left in the first place, correct? Why would we even __**think**__ about wanting you back here when your own __**father**__ didn't even want you?"_

_O- Oh my God… How could he __**say **__something so __**cruel **__to her?..._ Amata clasped a hand over her mouth in shock. _Wait- what happened to her dad?... Did I even __**ask **__her? Did she find him? Was he alive? Was he dead?_ Her heart sunk into her stomach. _Oh my gosh… I didn't ask her…_

"_My father is a good man- not like __**you**__ would know anything about being a respected man. Ever walked the hallways after coming into power, Allen? These people aren't afraid of you. They're __**laughing **__at you. Your own __**kids **__are laughing at you. Everyone sees you as __**nothing **__but a pathetic little bug, and they've called an exterminator."_

"_Do __**not **__refer to me so… __**informally.**__ I am your Overseer!"_

"_You don't mean anything more to me then something a radroach would eat. Besides, I thought we already established I'm not __**"Vault material."**__ I'm not a part of this little experiment anyways, am I right? My father and I came from outside. We are the unexpected variables that fucked up the Vault's experiment."_

_That's right…_ Amata's eyes widened. _Aimee was from outside… She was never one of us- that's what made it so easy for her to kill Allen… She just didn't __**care.**_

"_Your father wasn't the __**first**__ person to open the Vault."_

"_Yes, that maybe true… But we were the first to be accepted from the outside after hundreds of years of not letting anything in that wasn't supposed to be here. You were never my Overseer, Allen. Why should I treat you like one?"_

"Ah, that's right… Alphonse was still in power when you left, I _**completely**_forgot. He was your Overseer, before you found out the truth… A shame how he died, isn't it?"

Amata's chest tightened once he said her father's name. _Why are you talking like that? Why are you talking like you're so __**smug?**_

"Damn shame. May he rest in peace in whatever flaming pit he's reserved in hell."

A flare of anger typhooned in her chest. _How could you __**say **__that about my father? He had good intentions for the Vault, he just didn't execute them very well!..._

"_Aw, that's no way to talk about your best friend's father, now is it?"_

"_I sometimes forget they're related… You know, she's fighting for these people's freedom- he was fighting for these people's isolation. Kinda throws you for a loop."_

"_Well, no need to worry about __**him**__ anymore, now is there?"_ Allen tapped his chin. _"You know, I never thought about it, but I wonder if he died a slow and__** painful **__death… He was trapped in a fire, you know."_

Her chest tightened, constricting her breathing and tears began to swell in her eyes. _He died in the most __**painful **__way possible, and you're still talking like you're so damn smug!_

"_I'm aware."_

"_Explosions broke out all over the place that day… Still do, in fact. It wasn't a surprise to anyone. Well, not anyone but his little bitch of a daughter."_

"_**You watch your mouth about Amata,**__"_

"_You know, explosions happen at random. No one would have thought that it wasn't, well- an __**accident…**__ No one would have guessed that it was on __**purpose.**__"_

"_You've got something to say, Allen?"_

"_Do __**you**__ think I have something to say? I don't think I do."_ A bone-chilling grin registered as a blur on his face, making the baby hairs on the back of Amata's neck stand up straight._ Why are you talking about my dad like that?_

"Confess your sins unto me, my son. Confess your sins of sending a poor unfortunate soul to the fiery pits of hell by your own hands… Covered in blood, ash, and filth- are they not? _**You just can't see it.**_"

_Why did you say that, Aimee? Do you know something I don't? What's going on? I don't get it! _

He pulled out a bat and walked towards the door slowly. _**Oh my gosh!**__He has a __**bat!**__ Run Aimee, __**run! **__"No one would be surprised if another explosion went off, followed by a massive fire… No one would be surprised to find a little charred body afterwards. No one would be able to tell that her daddy didn't want her anymore."_He dragged the bat across the floor. _Why is he saying such horrible things to you?_"**No**_** one would be able to tell that her face was smashed in and she had a few broken bones…**_"

"_Not going to be any more fun for you to overlord these people when you're dead, Mack. Think about what you're doing. I was out in the Wasteland for a year, what makes you think you'll win this fight?"_

He rubbed the bat before jumping forward, out of frame, where a small tussle could be heard. Amata waited on the edge of her seat, tears streaming down her face as she waited in anticipation for the noise of bones cracking under Allen's bat and Aimee screaming, even though Aimee had walked out of there without any broken bones. Just a metal shard jutting out of her chest, having narrowly missed her most vital organ- her heart.

"_Sh- __**Shit!**_" Aimee cried angrily after a few moments, and the sounds of the tussle stopped.

"_What makes __**you**__ think you'll win this fight with a jammed gun?_" Allen asked.

Aimee suddenly slid into the frame, like someone would when coming to home plate in a baseball game, and quickly got to her feet. All that was seen was the top of Allen's red baseball cap before Aimee heaved a black blur- her gun, probably, _run Aimee, __**run DAMNIT!**_- at his face and he staggered out of frame with a loud noise- a disgusting crunch of bone.

_Keep running, keep __**running! **__Run away from him!_ Amata gripped the arm rests on her seat so tightly with her nails, one of them broke off and landed on the floor.

Aimee sailed over the desk, her foot catching on the desk so she did some weird flip and she disappeared over the other side. Due to the angle of the camera, you couldn't see what she was doing.

"_I can't __**wait**__ to watch you burn, you little __**whore!**__ Watch your eyes melt out of your sockets, your very skin __**sliding **__off your bones as you scream in agony…" _Allen bellowed out of frame like an animal, and her blood ran cold as the mental image of Aimee being burned alive slipped into her brain. Aimee slowly transformed into her father, bulging eyes, gaunt face, grey hair- burning to a blackened crisp in dancing red and orange flames…

Her mouth dropped open upon realization, and her hand was brought back to her mouth as the water leaking from her eyes took on a will of their own and began to drip down like waterfalls.

"That self-righteous _**sonofabitch**_ didn't _**deserve**_to be Overseer! He wanted to continue that damned experiment Vault 101 was given 200 _**long years ago.**_ He wasn't looking for what the Vault needed, so I did what would be best for everyone- _**I got rid of him.**_"

There it was. The reason why her father died. The reason why Allen became Overseer. The reason why Aimee _killed _Allen.

_He- He… He __**killed **__my father…_

"_Oh, you don't have to explain yourself to __**me**__, Allen!"_ Aimee giggled from behind the desk. "_Admit it- the only reason why you killed Alphonse was because you wanted to know what it was like to rule over people."_

"_**I'm looking out for the Vault!**_**He didn't!**" Allen stepped into frame.

"You're afraid. You're afraid of going outside so you don't leave. But you don't want to be alone, do you? You don't want _**everyone else **_leaving you here alone just because _**you're **_afraid and _**they're **_**not.**"

"_**Shut **_**up**_** you miserable brat!**_" He yelled took another step forward, towards the desk- _Aimee __**run!**__ He knows where you are! He knows, he knows, he __**knows, he KNOWS!**_

"_You know, my dad always told me that when one speaks the truth people will react in two ways… They will either fall silent, or they will become angry. Am I speaking the truth yet, Allen? Are you afraid of being alone? __**Am I in your head yet, Allen?**_" Aimee called the last part out as if she were singing, then she suddenly laughed.

"_**I'm going to **_**KILL YOU**_** you maggot-infested **_**whore!**_** Get **_**OUT **_**of my **_**head!**" He jumped over the desk, landing on his knees on the other side with his bat wielded high above his head to swing down. The moment he leapt over, Aimee crawled around the other side- the side of the desk closest to the window, and made sure she wasn't seen before getting to her feet. He looked up at her just in time to see her run over and pick up the block blob- her gun- off the floor _just _before he _**exploded!**_ Amata gasped and covered her eyes with her shaking hands, panting heavily from the shock of the information the video just gave her as it continued on with Aimee falling out of frame as if something had struck her from behind, and only a few moments later was there the tell-tale voices of Butch and Freddie out of frame.

The door slid open behind her and she jumped from surprise at the sudden intrusion, screaming out in terror.

"Woah! _Woah!_ Amata, it's just ole' Stanley!" He exclaimed with wide eyes, holding up his hands in alarm.

"S- Sorry…" She could feel the color drain from her face and she bit back any sobs that wanted to escape from her throat. "I-… rough day…"

"I heard," He frowned. "I heard Aimee was back, but I wanted to avoid her… Her father did right by me, and so did she, but-… I wasn't too happy about hearing her come back."

"I'm sorry that it was inconvenience for you and the other residents," She replied in a business-like tone and wiped her eyes dry, turning off the terminal that showed the clip of Aimee and Allen fighting and spun around on her chair so she was completely facing him. She folded her hands on the desk. "I told her to take what she needed and to leave."

"Was- Was that _smart? _I mean, we don't have much left, and-"

"I know Aimee. She wouldn't take anything out of moderation."

His frown deepened. "I heard the outside… _changed _her. You can't know her anymore, Amata. She's an animal now."

Amata stifled the pang of sadness and anger that ripped through her heart.

_I thought so too, Stanley… But that was until I found out that she killed the man who murdered my father and helped us more than I realized… And all the things I __**said **__to her- all the things I __**didn't **__say to her… I was so wrapped up in the Vault's problems, I completely forgot the reason why she had left in the first place. _She stared down at her clasped hands on the desk top. _I didn't even bother asking her if she found her dad, and if he was still alive…_

"Sooo… Andy said you needed me?" He asked uncomfortably.

"O- Oh, right." She cleared her throat. "I have Andy listing the injured and the deceased for the books, and he's taking a headcount on our numbers for booking, too, along with cleaning out the apartments so the Rebels have places to sleep now instead of on the clinic floor... It like _you_ to construct a list of all the materials we need in order to get the reactor back to stable condition, and anything extra you need in order to make repairs on whatever needs fixing in here- like the vents. I know you've had trouble with them for some time. I also need you to make a list of other items the Vault needs- food, clean water, clothing… Now that I think about it, make sure armor, ammunition, and weapons are on that list. If we are to have anyone leaving, they're going to need proper supplies in order to survive out there. I'm going to make plans for a small scouting party to leave at the end of the week and look for your materials."

"Did you ask Aimee?"

"Hmn?" She blinked. "Asked Aimee what?"

"About the supplies we need…" He answered with a tilt of his head to his shoulder. "It'd kinda make sense, right? We should ask an expert about what supplies are best for the residents. What kind of guns, what kind of armor, show us the ropes to the outside so we're not going into it blind…"

Amata didn't even think about that. When she first saw Aimee return, all she thought about was making peace with Allen and letting everyone come and go as they please. When she saw Aimee return again, bleeding out, all she thought about was keeping her alive. When she saw Aimee wake up, and she slapped her across the face and was tackled, all she thought about was keeping _herself _alive and getting Aimee to leave again- but for _good _this time.

She spun around on her chair, looking for the button to turn on the cameras in the Vault cavern and flicked them on. Aimee was just walking through the giant steel door and out into the dim cavern. She panicked and pressed a finger to the one-way intercom button. It only went to the cavern, and if she chose to reply from the console, it'd only come back to her and _no _one else… But the words that escaped her plump lips proved that what she wanted to say didn't have anything to do with advice on the outside or what sort of things they should look out for or what the threats of the outside world are- the words that came out were from the deepest part of her heart, and they rang true.

"Aimee, _I'm __**sorry!**_"

Aimee froze in the cavern, pulling for something on her leg but cringed from using her bad arm to do so. She crumpled to her knees on the floor, pack dropping off her back.

"Oh _no!_ Aimee!" Amata leapt up from her chair and darted past Stanley, screeching to a halt to turn the corner and sprinted towards the door to go out into the hall. She navigated her way past the clinic, up the stairs, through more halls, into the dinner, out the back door, down more stairs and another hallways, into the auditorium, down the main corridor and towards the main room with the big steel door. It was still open.

"_Aimee!_" She cried again, voice echoing in the long, narrow, dim cavern in front of her and she ran into it, stopping right before her feet left the Vault and over the doorway. She didn't stop because she was scared, she stopped because there was nobody there.

_She- She must have left before I got to her…_ She thought sadly, hanging her head as she retraced her steps back the way she came and returned to the Overseer's office where Stanley was standing in front of the terminals, shaking with wide eyes.

"_Stanley!_ The cameras are for Overseer's eyes _only!_" She exclaimed, walking towards him. "What do you _think _you are _doing?_"

"I- I sa- saw a m- mo- mon-…" He swallowed hard, unable to get the words out.

"You saw a _what?_"

"_Look!_" He cried, searching the keyboard for the rewind button and rewound the recording of the camera at the Vault entrance. He pressed play, and they both huddled up next to the screen for a better look.

"_Ch- Charon!... God __**fucking **__damnit…"_ Aimee dropped to her side on the floor, gripping her injured shoulder. It you were watching close enough, or if you had a vivid imagination, you could have sworn something dark was seeping out from between the fingers clutching her wounded shoulder. "_**CHARON!**_" She screamed at the top of her lungs, and dust spilled from the ceiling from how loud she was.

Only moments later did the door open, cascading a long square of bright light across the rocks and a tall figure stood in the light.

"Aimee!" A raspy voice called as the tall figure lurched forward into the light, but you couldn't see his face due to the angle he was standing at. The man was _very _tall- he must have been six feet, at least! He looked taller, still, kneeling down at Aimee's small frame on the ground. "What _happened?_"

"I- I'll tell you la- later…" Another figure traipsed in after the tall man- it looked like an animal. It began barking at Aimee. It was a dog. "Ge- Get me to Ch- Chur- _Church..._ I'm s- sorry, Char-bear… I'm _so _sorry…_"_

The man cradled Aimee in his arms against his broad chest, getting to his feet with the dog at his side and he turned to run out. Stanley paused the video just at _that _second- as the man turned his face to the light, Aimee sprawled out in his arms like a new bride, and a scream got caught in Amata's throat.

The man… He didn't look _human._ He was missing his nose, his ears, his skin looked like it was mauled and ravaged- actually, it looked like he was completely _rid _of anything you could _call _skin. There were dried patches here and there, exposing red flesh and muscle underneath, and dead strands of red hair were on his peeled scalp. She clasped a hand over her mouth to keep the scream from coming out, eyes wide with fear, and she backed up into the edge of the desk, shaking her head as if it would erase the image of his ruined face from her memory.

_That_ was her friend? The one she had wait outside?

_That _was Charon?

Well, it made sense that Aimee didn't want to bring him down into the Vault- the residents would have been in an upheaval…

As Amata dared to look back at the still picture of the "man", presumably known as _Charon_, carrying Aimee like a new bride, a thought occurred to her. Aimee didn't look like a bride being held by a- a _thing _that looked like _that…_ She looked like a victim.


	41. CHP 41: If Dogs Could Smile

Charon sat at Aimee's bedside in their Megaton home. The cold metal chair he was using was pulled from her desk, and he had placed it _so _close to her bed that his knees knocked against the edge and he had to push it back some. He looked upon Aimee's sleeping face- lips slightly parted, eyelids twitching, chest rising and falling with content and undisturbed sleep…

"_She's fucking __**lucky**__- maybe she really __**is **__an angel like all the idiots out here think she is,"_ Doc Church spoke up in the back of his mind- coming out of the back patient room and closed the door behind him, wiping down his bloodied hands with an equally bloodied rag, but somehow they were getting cleaner. _"She got hit by a frag grenade or a frag mine. There was a fragment that narrowly missed her heart. Any closer and she would have died within minutes if not seconds."_

He put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and placed his head in his hands and stared at the floor as the image of Aimee's lifeless house of a corpse plagued his mind.

"_Looks like she got a little botched work done- there were more fragments in her that were removed but not __**all **__of it was, and then she got nailed by a Stimpak. Because a few more fragment's remained, the flesh and nerves couldn't knit back together properly, and the fragment only made it worse. It continued to tear up whatever was trying to heal, damaging it further. One __**very **__wrong move, and that missed fragment __**would **__have punctured her heart."_

"I'm gonna tear you a new one when you wake up- _you know that, right?_" He hissed between clenched teeth in an angry, raspy voice- talking to her more than himself even though he _knew_ she was asleep. He probably wouldn't have said those things _at __**all **_if she were awake right now.

Did she not understand the _hell_ he went through while sitting in Church's "waiting room," fidgeting for hours on end while he waited for some news? _Any news?_... Preferably good news.

"_Pay up, Charry." _Charon felt sour about paying for Church's services- the fucker knew Aimee came in regularly enough that you could put a time between visits and pretty much hit the nail on the head, but he paid anyways- shocked to find that there were _more _caps in Aimee's lunchbox with a little extra in a drawstring bag he hadn't seen before. He counted the extra out before paying Church- finding that she had three _hundred _more caps than she had when she went into Vault 101. His only thoughts were how on _Earth _she could have gotten the money in the Vault…

"_I'm s- sorry, Char-bear…"_

"_I'm __**so **__sorry…"_

"_**CHARON!**__"_

He bit down on his tongue to keep from growling in anger. He _knew _it was his fault, letting her go down there on her own when there were some crazy bastards inhabiting it and probably looking for a little justice after all the trouble she and her father unintentionally caused by escaping. He should have insisted upon going with her into Vault 101 instead of waiting outside like a loyal mutt without half a brain to protect his master…

…And _speaking _of loyal mutts…

The dog that followed him all the way back to Megaton pushed his nose into the open crack of the door, sniffing cautiously before stepping in and he barked loudly. Charon tensed, looking back to Aimee to see her face contort into something unpleasant in her sleep and she twisted her head away- a thin sheen of sweat had formed on her skin.

"Damnit, dog…" He murmured, by now very irritated by the _very _vocal animal and got up- shooing the mutt out of the room and closed the door behind them both. He traipsed down the stairs to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge to poke his head in and find something to eat.

_Maybe the damn mutt will shut up if he's got food in his mouth…_ He mused, pulling out a slab of raw mole rat meat that lay on a plate and was covered in some sort of plastic wrap. The moment he brought it out of the fridge and closed the door, the dog jumped on him and pinned him against the fridge door with his paws on his stomach, barking eccentrically for the plate of food.

"Fucking _Christ-_ get _off_ me!" He growled in the rasp a feral would use and the dog shrunk back, sitting back on his haunches with his pointy ears dropping down on his head. He sighed, moving to the living room to place the plate down by the bookshelf and unwrapped it. The dog stayed in the kitchen, ears low on his head, and he whimpered.

"Come eat, mutt." He ordered and the dog barked happily, bobbing over to tear at the raw slab of meat with disgustingly sloppy sounds of slurping and crunching when he found a bone in it.

Charon sighed and wiped his face down, pulling one of the dining table fold-out chairs to the bookcase and plopped down to watch the dog eat. He folded his arms over his chest, finally turning his eyes away to the stairs as if hoping Aimee was standing there- giddily asking him where the dog had come from and most likely asking if they could keep him. He'd say no because it obviously has an owner- a makeshift collar, consisting of a leather belt, was around his neck. The name "Dogmeat" was stitched into the inside. The name made sense, as peculiar as it was. He was a _big _dog- he had a lot of meat on his bones. Sharp claws, fine teeth and strong jaws, he was no doubt a fighting dog. And he appeared to be trained- or at least understood the orders Charon barked at him like "stop" or "wait here, dog" or "get out of my way before I punt you over the border and into the next state."

But it made him wonder… Maybe he _had _an owner- just based on how they encountered each other sort of dropped the hint.

The mutt had come up the road by Megaton with a limp- his back right leg dragging behind him and covered in blood. Once he saw Charon, he came to a funny trot- barking and limping even though he tried to sprint all the way up the hill to him. He wasn't given enough time to question where the mutt's owner was as he whimpered and looked over the rise in the hill at three raiders coming up the same path the dog had- covered in blood. It was probably their own, considering the trio were covered in scratches and gaping bite marks that caused flaps of skin to hang off from the wound. One was missing a few fingers on one hand as well.

Charon had taken care of them up from the hill- blasting the head off of the one leading the other two and they began to run around in a frenzy, going back in the opposite direction. He shot the head off of the one running in front, causing the remaining one to double back and run back up to her headless leader before her _own _head was blown off as well. He was bored with Aimee gone, and he wasn't seeing much action from up on that hill so he took what he could get. The fun was done in no more than four minutes tops, and he turned to the dog to take care of him. He pulled the bullet from his back haunch and cleaned it before using a Stimpak and then bandaged it up.

…Now that he thought about it, the mutt's owner could have had a run in with the raiders. It would explain why the dog came to him _alone…_ And then he spent the time to kill the raiders and heal the canine. Ever since the mutt wouldn't leave him the hell _alone._ He followed him into Vault 101, followed him out and into Megaton, in and out of Church's clinic and then into Aimee's house and plopped himself in the middle of her living room floor and refused to move no matter _how_ much the ghoul yelled at him to get the fuck out.

He realized with a blink of sudden epiphany that the damn mangy thing had probably labeled _him _as his new master upon coming up over that rise of hill.

_No. No __**fucking **__way we're keeping this mutt._ Charon groaned in irritation when he thought "we" and not "I." He _knew_ Aimee would want to keep the damn thing- she loved animals. She got to pet a scavenger's Yao Guai once, and ever since she felt bad about killing the damn things so _he _would have to do it. Luckily enough- and _strangely _enough- whenever they came across Yao Guai's after that, they would simply cock their heads at them both and then continue on with their aimless walk. It was sort of fascinating in that "I just stepped into the most fucked up stretch of the Twilight Zone" kind of way…

He looked up the stairs again when he heard a noise, hoping to see his employer standing there but got nothing. He stood up and poured the dog a big bowl of fresh water before telling him to rest up his leg and turned to the stairs. The noise sounding like-… fainting humming. No- _talking._ Who was Aimee talking to? Or was that Three Dog on his radio broadcasting? He went up the stairs to investigate, peeking into her room to find that she had rolled over onto her Pip-Boy in her unconscious state and turned it on.

_I've said it once, and I'll say it again…_ He glanced down to see that she had rolled over onto her bad shoulder. _You'll be the death of me if I don't turn feral first. And unless you don't get yourself killed under my contract, either._

With a wary sigh, he turned her over onto her back and looked down at the little device sprawled across her stomach. The contents of the tape being played kept him from turning it off. It was a man's voice, thick with an accent. He sounded British… Charon couldn't remember the last time he heard a British accent. He himself had a Brooklyn accent, having been born and raised in Brooklyn till he was fourteen and then he ran away to New York. But he assumed the years of radiation and ghoulification destroyed the accent he once had that made him seem like such a wise-ass.

"_Well, here we are… Nestled all safe and snug inside Vault 101. It's so-… so __**cold**__ down here. Colder still, with my beloved Catherine gone…"_

He recognized the name Catherine immediately. Aimee had mentioned before that it was her mother's name- then… Then that meant that the man on the holotape was probably her father, James.

He sat down and continued listening to the holotape, despite his better judgement of turning it off.

"_Oh, Catherine… I so wish you were here with me. How in __**God's**__ name am I supposed to do this by myself? How in __**God's**__ name am I supposed to live down in this- this __**hole?**__ How on __**God's dead Earth**__ am I supposed to take care of our daughter when every time I look into her eyes, I don't see her, but I see __**you?...**__"_

Charon looked to his employer, recalling how she had eyes that were as grey a marble and shone as bright as stars when she was happy…

"_But this is our life now… And I guess I'd better get used to it. The Overseer who runs this Vault- Vault 101- is quite the overbearing bully, but I've dealt with worse… And you've taught me to persevere even when the happy times were becoming too strained and I felt this black cloud looming over my head…"_

He froze in place, staring down at Aimee's Pip-Boy with a blank expression and feelings swarming in his heart as if it were an enraged hornet's nest, feeling like he heard those words before because he had heard them coming from _himself_ when Rose died.

"_Catherine… How am I supposed to persevere in the eye of this raging storm when I don't have you at my side? How am I supposed to keep moving forward when all I have left of you is our daughter?... __**How?**__"_

He couldn't take it anymore. He leaned over to turn the holotape off but it clicked with ending just before his finger grazed the stop button, and the wide glowing interface beamed as the inventory of her holotapes came up. There were seven new entries, but two had been played- one labeled _Easy Living; Catherine _and the other one was _Home Sweet Home._ The latter was activated, and he had to assume it was the holotape that had been turned on when she rolled over onto her Pip-Boy. He quickly scanned his eyes over the others- _Mockingbird; Catherine. Till Then; Me. Daddy's Little Girl; Me. I'm Making Believe; Catherine and Me. Glowworm; Catherine…_ He knew _all _of these songs. They were written before the Great War, and he danced or sang with or listened to _all _of them so many times… _I'm Making Believe- The Ink Spots and Ella Fitzgerald. Daddy's Little Girl, Till Then and Glowworm- The Mills Brothers… Mockingbird-_ he didn't know who _that _one was by… But he knew it was a children's lullaby. He turned that one on.

"_Ja- James… Not __**now…**__ I'm __**exhausted.**__"_

"_I am too, love. We're not going to get __**any**__ sleep if you don't calm her down… She's kicking too much, it's keeping __**both **__of us wide awake. She wants to hear her mummy sing."_

"_But I'm __**tireeeeed! Ye-OW!**__"_

"_Foot in the ribcage again?"_

"_I think that was her __**head **__this time… __**Ow…**__"_

"_Cat, please?"_

The woman sighed. _"Fine… Singing hasn't seemed to prove us wrong… __**Yet.**__"_

The holotape rustled with background noise before the woman took in a deep breath and began to sing.

"_Hush little baby, don't say a word… Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird."_

Charon was suddenly sitting in the waiting room of a large hospital- his large hands in his lap, clasping a dark red fedora with a feather tucked into the band around the brim. He couldn't stop fidgeting- tapping his foot, bouncing his leg, looking left and right for someone… _Anyone._

"_And if that mockingbird don't sing, mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring."_

He heard a door open and he snapped his head to it. Out stepped a doctor, holding a clipboard, looking over the results with a long frown on his face. He looked up and saw him, and his face turned as white as his coat. The doctor swallowed hard- trying to gulp down the pit in his throat.

"_And if that diamond ring turns brass, mama's gonna buy you a looking glass."_

He fixed his tie- black with little cartoon characters on them like Tweetie Bird and Sylvester the Cat and he cautiously walked over, still gripping his clipboard tightly. Charon could tell he was new. Too giddy. Too willing. A kiss-ass… Now he was too _nervous._ He hadn't given bad news before, that much was obvious. It wasn't a first for Charon to be on the receiving end of bad news, but it would be the first time it rocked his world to its very core.

"_And if that looking glass gets broke, mama's gonna buy you a billy goat."_

"_**I'm sorry, Mr. Byrne… We ran an MRI on her cranium, and we-… Uhm…"**_

"_And if that billy goat won't pull, mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull."_

"_**Just fucking **_**say it.**_**" **_He growled at the doctor. _**"Spit it out, you piece of **_**shit.**_**"**_

"_And if that cart and bull turn over, mama's gonna buy you a dog named "Rover."_

The doctor was surprised by his vulgar language and shrunk away from him. _**"Pl- Please don't talk to me like that, or I- I'll call security."**_

"_And if that dog named "Rover" won't bark, mama's gonna buy you a horse and cart."_

"_**Security? Too little a man that you can't fight your **_**own **_**damn battles?" **_He grabbed the doctor's arm roughly, pulling him close. _**"Just fucking **_**say it. **_**Be a **_**man **_**for once in your miserable fucking life, Mr. Doctorate's degree!"**_

"_And if that horse and cart fall down, you'll still be the sweetest little baby in town."_

"_**Se- Security! Get him **_**out **_**of here!"**_

"_**SAY IT! She's going to **_**die, **_**isn't she? ISN'T SHE?"**_

"_So hush little baby, don't you cry… Daddy loves you, and so do I."_

Two men dressed in security garb came and grabbed his arms just as a woman dressed in a flowing, lavender summer dress with her favorite white knit-shawl stepped out of the room the four men- him , the doctor, and the two security officers- stopped and looked up at her just as she called out.

"_**A- Arin…"**_

"_So hush little baby, don't you cry… Daddy loves you… And so do __**I…**__"_

"_**I- I'm going to die…"**_

"Ch- Charon?..."

Charon snapped his eyes open to see Aimee looking up at him, giving a weak smile as the sounds of her mother and father's voice filled the empty space.

"_She- She stopped kicking!"_ Her father exclaimed on the playing holotape.

"_**Finally…**__ I don't know __**how **__we're going to be able to keep up with her when she's born."_

"_We'll find a way, my love. But for now, let's just enjoy a few hours of sleep before tomorrow morning comes… We have a busy day ahead of us."_

The holotape clicked off and Aimee's smile deepened as she sat up, trembling as she did so because she was having some difficulty doing it on her own.

"R- Ros-" She looked up at him questioningly and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to make it sound like he got something caught in it. "_Aimee,_ you should rest."

"She has a beautiful voice, doesn't she?" She asked in a hoarse voice, pressing her back into the headboard of her bed so it could help her sit up. "I wished I could listen to her sing to me when I was little… I never got the chance. She died giving birth to me."

Charon swallowed, ripping his eyes away from hers to stare at the wall.

"What were you _thinking? _Going in there alone?" He changed the subject, immediately regretting it upon realizing that she may have wanted to talk about her mother more.

"I was thinking of keeping you safe," She answered bluntly, and frowned. He snapped his eyes back to her in awe. "I didn't want them hurting you because they were afraid."

"Afraid of what? Of me?"

"Of you being with me."

"…How so?"

She shrugged. "People get angry with what they don't understand, Char-bear… They wouldn't have understood why I was with you."

"_I _am with _you._ I'm with you because of my contract."

Aimee smiled a weak, almost pathetic smile- as if he didn't understand what she was saying. "I sometimes like to think that _I'm _the one following _you…_ Considering I don't have enough experience or common sense out here, and your always the one protecting _me._ You're more of a leader between the two of us."

…Had it always been like that? Had it always been where he was the one under contract, but given all the power in the relationship? The power to protect his employer? The power to let his employer die and believe the lies in his head, telling him that it was just an accident, or he didn't move fast enough or whatever the bad excuse he came up with was? When had he gotten this power? When had he gotten this _privilege?_

"…Who hurt you?" Charon finally spoke, getting up.

"Wha- _What?_"

"_Who. __**Hurt.**__ You?"_ His eyes narrowed to dangerously dark slits on his mottled face.

"Al- Allen Mack…" She frowned more. "His name was Allen Mack."

"You said if _anyone _laid a hand on you, you'd knee them in the balls or shove an elbow into their ovaries." He quipped, more or less reciting what she had told him before entering Vault 101.

"Well it's kinda hard to sack him when he's blown to shit and I couldn't find his balls to stomp on them…" She answered in a harsh murmur, looking down into her lap quietly.

"I don't care if he's dead or not! I'm going in there and decimating his remains!" He snarled, turning away.

"…You mean like what you practically did to Jericho?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, fingers barely grazing the knob on her bedroom door and he looked at her from the corner of his eyes, turning his chin to his shoulder. She was biting down on her lower lip, hard, hands turned to clenched fists in her lap.

"Don't do that." He demanded, turning and sitting down at the chair across from her bed.

"Do what?..."

"Bite on your lip like that. You're going to break the skin and make it bleed."

She remained quiet, bringing her knees to her chest and she wrapped her arms around them, putting her chin on her knees, forcing herself to stop biting her lip simply because she knew he didn't want her to. There was the power again. _He _was giving _her _orders. It wasn't the other way around… Like it _should _have been.

"I know what you did to him and he's still in the clinic trying to recover... I woke up in the middle of Church stitcihing me back up, and I saw him on the bed at my side, sleeping. He was _drugged,_ Char-bear. With enough Med-X to knock out a Super Mutant _Behemoth..._ His skin was _gone,_ he was missing some fingers and toes... Why would you _do _that to him?"

"Isn't it damn obvious?"

She shot him an irritated glare. "Evidently _not _if I'm asking you what your reason was."

"...A warning."

"A warning?" She furrowed her brows together.

"A warning." He nodded. "So he knew to stay away from you. I know what _he _did to _you,_ Aimee. He put his hands on you. He put his _mouth _on you. And then he tried to kill you. Do you honestly think I would have sat around waiting for that _fucking _joke of a sheriff to do something about it? He gave Jericho far too many chances, so I took matters into my own hands."

"Didn't you think for a _second _that I wouldn't have wanted you to do that?" She exclaimed.

"Why do you think I didn't tell you?" He deadpanned, looking to her through hooded eyes. "I wil be honest with you. I wouldn't take back what I did, and I _never _will. I'd do it all over again if I had to, and I'd mostly likely cut off more than his fingers or toes if I felt like doing it again, too."

Aimee swallowed hard at the serious and practically unflinching look in his face, registering that he would truly do it again... Just for her...

"What happened down there, Aimee?" Charon suddenly changed the subject, which she was thankful for. "What happened when you went into the Vault?"

"…When I left, Amata's father, Alphonse, was Overseer. Apparently the night that I left, Allen killed Alphonse so he could become Overseer. The reason why Amata sent that broadcast was in hopes that I would come back and diffuse the situation... She begged me to just _talk _to Allen- no fighting whatso_ever,_ and I fucking _tried _to listen to her, but he came at me and I-… I had to fight back… I threw out a frag mine and he stepped on it. Blew him to hell… But I got hit when I was trying to run away. Amata tried patching me up, but she fucking _sucked _at it. When I woke up, she called me a murderer and told me to fucking leave because I didn't deserve to be in the Vault again… _So I left…_ And I didn't tell her that the reason why I went ahead and killed Allen was to avenge her father… Even though the prick fucking _shot _me when I left the Vault for the first time!"

By now her hands were trembling- palms sweaty and shaking, shoulders twitching, eyes glazing over with tears and she forced her face into her hands as she began to cry.

"I- I should have _told _her! But I-… I thought it would be best that she didn't know! I thought it would be better if she kept thinking that her father just- just _died _in some freak accident instead of some psycho burning him _alive! _Why didn't I tell her, Charon? _Why didn't I __**tell **__her?_"

He had plans to yell at her._ Scream _at her. Make her understand that she was too damn stupid and naïve to think that everything would be fine if she went in there without him. People _wouldn't _have fucked with him- they'd be too busy shitting themselves and they had no God damn business in what their relationship was… But _her?_ Poor, tiny, sweet little Aimee?... He couldn't yell at her now. He wasn't angry at _her._ He was angry at _himself… _Something he had established long before she even woke up, before she even got _hurt._ He established that he was pissed at himself when he left Aimee disappear into the cavern that led to Vault 101.

Charon brought his hand to her chin, brushing her hands away from her face and tilted her head up to him so their eyes met. With his free hand, his thumb caressed her cheeks and he wiped the tears that were there.

_You're so fucking __**stupid**__… So damn fucking __**stupid…** _He insulted himelf mentally, kicking himself, punching himself, slamming his head repeatedly on a wall...

"I-… I violated the contract…" He spoke once her cheeks were dry, and he pulled back to his chair.

"Wha- What?" She hiccupped, wiping her eyes dry.

"I obeyed your orders- but by doing so I failed to protect you." He answered, getting up from his seat.

"How is that _your _fault? We couldn't have known that I would have gotten hurt! And it's not like _Allen_ hurt me- I just got hit by a stray fragment is all! From my own _mine, _no less!"

He dropped to his knees by the edge of her bed, slumping down so his head hung as low as his shoulders.

"Ch- _Charon?..._" She called in bewilderment with wide, horrified eyes and she seemed to shrink back into the corner where her bed resided, letting the small ache in her shoulder go unnoticed.

"By way of my contract, you have the right to punish me in whatever way you see as fitting…" He murmured, pressing his knuckles to the floor and his forehead touched the edge of her bed. "Punish me for my ignorance."

"Wha-?... No! Absolutely _not!_"

He felt slightly elated to hear that she was disagreeing with at least _one _of his orders- but at the same time, he was… He didn't know _what _he felt, but it wasn't pleasant. He _needed_ to be punished for disobeying… He _had _to be punished.

"Those who do not do what they are created to do deserve to be punished," He stated. "I was meant to protect you. I failed. I, therefore, deserve to be punished."

"…Then you'll have to punish me too." His head snapped up at her words, and she leaned forward on her bed to grip his shoulder. "Know why? Because your contract has directed me to give you orders. I gave you an order conflicting with your protection of me- and I did it knowingly. That makes it worse. Because I _knew._"

"Ai- Aimee…"

"This was _not _what you were created to do, Charon! You were _not _created to be a punching bag for whoever forced you into this contract! You were created to be _human _and you _are_ fucking _human!_ I'm _not _going to "punish" you because this contract has you believing that you _deserve _a little smacking around because you _don't! _You just fucking _don't! _So if I am to punish you, then you are to punish me." She answered in finality.

"…You know I can't do that."

"Why not? Because you think you'll hurt me?" She frowned and shrugged. "So what? That's what a punishment is _meant _to do, right? It's supposed to teach me a lesson."

"But it doesn't _work _that way!" He yelled at her.

"And why can't it, Charon? Why can't I be punished too?" She yelled back. "Why can't I protect you? Why can't I watch your back like you watch mine? Why can't I buy you clothes or food or even _ammunition?_ Why can't I hand you a loaded magazine, knowing that in the midde of a fucking battle, you need it like you do with me? _Why can't I be like **you?**"_

"_Because there is supposed to be a __**balance of power**__ between us! You are supposed to be the leader, I am supposed to be the follower!"_ He gripped both of her shoulders tightly, making her wince and she cried out in pain, but it was drowned out by his rapidly beating heart. _"We are __**not **__supposed to be equals! I am supposed to be **beneath **you! You are supposed to be superior to me!"_

Aimee trembled under his firm grip, staring up into his angry eyes before tears began to drip from her big, grey eyes- and then she _smiled._ She fucking _smiled!_

"…A- Appropriate punishment, if y- you as- ask me…" She gripped his wrist, pulling his hands off her to reveal that fresh blood was surging up into the bandages over her shoulder, wrapped around her torso.

…He had ripped open her stitches when he grabbed her.

"You- _You-…_" He backed away in surprise, landing on his rump and his elbow bumped into his chair. What had she _done?_ This diabolical, manipulative, little _girl?_ What had she _done?_

Her smile deepened and she wiped the pained tears from her eyes, looking to her shoulder.

She knew what she was doing. She forced his hand without him knowing or even _realizing _it. He lost control and ended up- he ended up-…

_"This was _**not** _what you were created to do, Charon! You were **_not _**created to be a punching bag for whoever forced you into this contract! You were created to be **_human _**and you **are **fucking** human! **_**I'm**_** not **going to "punish" you because this contract has you believing that you** deserve **a little smacking around because you** don't!** You just fucking **don't!**"_

"…_I __**punished **__you…" _He murmured.

"That you did." She nodded in agreement, throwing her damp with sweat sheets off her body and threw her legs over the edge of her bed, stiffly placing them on the cool floor and shivered at how good it felt compared to her boiling skin.

"…You have _no _idea what you just did, Aimee…"

"What did I do? I'm fully aware of what I did." Her smile faltered a fraction.

"You're shifting the power in this business relationship. You're making _me _the leader and _you_ the follower. _Me _the employer and _you _the employee. It- It's not supposed to _be _like this!"

Aimee got up from her bed, hunching over slightly and offered her good arm to him, a giant grin slathered across her lips.

"It's no longer a business relationship, Charon. It was like that at first, but it's not anymore… We're _friends _now. This is now a _friendship._ In friendship, it takes two people. You and the other person as _equals…_ I can't see you as any other way but my friend. I can't see you as an employee to me, or as someone who is beneath me. You aren't _supposed _to be beneath me. The reason why you're a bodyguard is because you _are _superior to your employer. They need someone to protect them or their assets because they either can't do it all that well themseves, or they need some extra help... This is where _you _come in. This is where _you _become superior."

"_No... _The contract makes it so," He replied tersely, looking away from her. "The contract fully states that I am a bodyguard... You make it sound like I'm some sort of divine hero."

"Well I don't like how this contract is…" She sighed, obviously annoyed. "And you _are _a hero to me, Char-bear..."

When he said nothing, she sighed _again _with irritation obvious in her tone.

"Just get up so I can give yu your punishment."

Charon remained quiet, shooting her a dangerous look as he got up without her help and he stared down at her. She was gone for only a few hours, but he had forgotten how _short _she was compared to him. He opened his mouth to speak when she remained still in front of him, but was stopped when she grabbed the front of his armor and pulled him down so he was eye level with her.

"Your punishment can start by making me something to eat. I'm _starving._" She grinned.

He blinked down at her in _awe. _"…_What?_" He deadpanned.

"That's for _starters,"_ She reminded him, frowning a little. "I _know _that you're going to keep sulking about this unless I just do as you say." She scratched the back of her head and released him. "I can still give you a punishment without hurting you…" She grinned. "You are _now _my maid! Clean my messes, make my food, listen to my whining and tuck me into bed at night!"

Charon gawked, quirking a brow muscle at her. Well, more like his eye was going into a spasmic twitch because he did not understand what she was trying to do at _fucking _all! He _did _clean up her messes, he _did_ make her food, he _did _listen to her whine and sometimes he _did_ tuck her into bed. It's because she was pretty much a child in an almost 20-year olds body!

And then, it hit him.

His punishment was being taking care of her, even though it was no different than what he _normally_ did.

…His punishment was to play babysitter…

_...Fucking __**brilliant…**_

He was getting a migraine from this diabolical employer of his.

"I feel like Salisbury Steak and Mac 'N Cheese…" She smacked her plump lips together, grabbing for the doorknob. "Please tell me we have that, because I've been craving it since I woke u-"

"Aimee, _look out!_" He exclaimed, jumping in the way when she opened the door. She hid behind it with a squeak of surprise, hearing a loud clatter of a tussle and she finally peeked out to see a _giant _dog on top of Charon who seemed to have been floored from the sudden affectionate assault. He lay there with the grumpiest look she _ever _did see to grace his face as the canine licked his cheek over and over.

"Oh my _God!_" She shrieked with glee, stepping out to pet the dog. "It's a puppy!"

"_**Puppy?**_" Charon barked, grabbing the dog by the scruff of his neck and hauled him off, picking himself up from the floor. He then continued to hold the dog up in the air by the scruff of his neck, his other hand on his hip and his face dripping with slobber. "It's a fucking _Brahmin_, Aimee!"

"Well _someone's _getting a little testy!" She giggled. "Aw, put him down! You're probably hurting him doing that!"

"He's fine," He replied coolly, wincing when the dog licked at his exposed nose canal and he gently put him back on his paws so he could wipe his face dry with the back of his hands.

"Let's go wash your face off," She smiled, grabbing for his arm to lead him out of the room.

But _just _as Aimee outstretched her hand to Charon to lead him, the dog jumped between the two and stepped towards her, ears pulled back on his head and his teeth bared in a ferocious snarl.

"Ch- _Charon…_" She squeaked with wide eyes, taking a cautious step back to only back up into the wall. "Uh- I don't think he likes me…"

"_Hey,_" Charon crouched down and flicked the dog hard on the nose. "_**No.**_ Bad dog."

The dog whined and sat back on his haunches, ears drooping into sadness and he stared at the floor, almost looking like a pouting child.

"_Aw,_ look at him, Char-bear! He's just a bit ole' ball of fluff!" She smiled, crouching down as well to stare into the canine's eyes. "Oh _wow!_ His eyes are two different colors! One's blue and one's brown!"

"I noticed that," He remarked, looking back to the dog and pointed at Aimee. "Master." He directed.

The dog whined in disagreement, dropping his head into Charon's lap and rolled over for a tummy rub from him, barking happily.

"How'd you come across him?" She asked, outstretching a hand to give him the tummy rubs he asked for but pulled back when he lifted his head and began to snarl at her again. Charon simply flicked him on the nose again and said "_friend_" instead of "_master_" when pointing at her. The dog seemed to take this as a viable answer and allowed Aimee to stroke his belly. His leg began to twitch and thump with pleasure after a few minutes' worth of scratches.

"When I was waiting for you. He ran up to me injured with raiders chasing him. I took care of them, and the mutt's been following me ever since."

"That would explain why he seems to be so protective of you and refused me as his master- he probably sees _you _as his master! Dogmeat_…_" She mused, reading the name from his leather belt used as a collar. "Did you name him, or did he already have this collar when you found him?"

"If I named him, it wouldn't be something like that." He shook his head. "I think those raiders killed his previous owner-"

Her face brightened significantly.

"_But _we are _not _taking him with us." He frowned, folding his arms across his chest in finality, and the glow in her face disappeared and she began to pout. Dogmeat seemed to do the same. "It's just going to be another back to cover, another mouth to feed, another thing for me to worry about and another body to heal if he were to become injured."

"Char-bear are you _serious?_" Aimee hugged Dogmeat's muzzle to her chest, and Charon could have sworn the dog made a small noise of pleasure as his tail began to wag back and forth so fast, it was a miracle it hadn't fallen off. "He managed to take even _you_ down! He landed you flat on your _ass!_"

He frowned at her, looking away dejectedly. "He caught me off guard, and he's a big fucking dog."

"And you're a big _fucking_ guy," She grinned from ear to ear, releasing Dogmeat from her chest to scratch his ears. "Heh. That sounded _dirty…_"

"The height of wit nowadays…" He sighed, rolling his eyes as he stepped past her and went down the stairs. Dogmeat immediately followed him, as did Aimee after them both.

"Can we keep him?"

"No."

"But this house _needs _a guard dog!"

"You already _have _a _bodyguard_, Aimee."

"That's beside the point! _Pleeeease? _Can we keep him?"

"_No._"

"But I said _please!_"

"Then can we please _not _keep him?" He looked up into her pouty face and shrugged. "You were the only that said that implied saying "please" immediately grants you victory over this conversation."

"Well, I said please first so _that _means that I _am _granted victory over this conversation, and he gets to stay!"

"I said _no_ Aimee!"

"The next step of your punishment!" She declared, pointing a finger up in the air and he froze at the bottom of the steps, gawking up at her in disbelief. "Is to let Dogmeat become a part of our group and help me take care of him!"

"How did I see that this was going to happen?..." He grumped, yelling out in surprise when Dogmeat jumped on his back and he was thrown forward, landing on his stomach and elbow with the giant canine sitting on his back, wagging his tail back and forth like he had just done something that he was meant to be proud of.

"Gah! He's so _adorable!_ How can you _not _love him, Char-bear?"

"Depends on which side of this situation you're on. Do _you _want to be under this Super Mutant hybrid of a mutt?" He grunted, bucking Dogmeat off to stand up and looked up into Aimee's pouting face once more. She looked so childishly innocent, how could he possibly-… _No. __**No!**__ Don't say it- don't agree to this-! _"_Fine! _He can stay."

"_WHOO!_" She cried, doing a little funny dance before sprinting down the stairs to him, bounding off the second step before the last and Charon caught her in a panic to make sure she wouldn't land on something important or break a bone or possibly crack her skull open from her giddiness.

"_Hey!_ Don't run down the stairs, you'll get hu-"

His protests were silenced when Aimee smashed her lips to his ravaged ones in a passionate kiss- and if dog's could smile or even chuckle, Charon was positive Dogmeat could do both because from over his shoulder he heard airy huffing noises coming from the animal- sounding strangely like taunting chuckles. But suddenly, the whole situation was drowned out by the heavy pounding of his heart- throwing itself against the innards of his ribcage like a fly against a window in an attempt to escape. His only thought was mostly a prayer- _please don't let her notice whatever __**this **__is._

She pulled back with a chuckle, gently kicking her legs back and forth in his arms without a care in the world and curled up into his chest.

"Still won't kiss me back, huh? Am I just _that _ugly?" She joked, trying to lighten the mood. Her cheeks were flushed red for some reason.

"This-… This is _dangerous,_ Aimee…" Was the first thing that came to his fumbling mind, and for some reason it just _happened _to fall out of his fumbling mouth. He had never felt so disorientated before… Or maybe he had, and he just didn't remember.

It was like walking through a maze.

In the dark.

…And all the walls were mirrors.

"What do you mean?" She asked, blinking up at him curiously.

Charon counted his blessings, inwardly cursing at whatever sick God felt like doing a "let's fuck with Charon!" campaign lately and when he opened his mouth to answer her, a loud knock emitted from the door.

"_Coming!_" Aimee cried, wriggling out of his arms as she rushed to the door to answer it. He stood there, arms still outstretched as if she were still there, feeling unnervingly cold, and his cracked lips felt tingly with her saliva drying on them.

"Oh, Sheriff Simms! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Hello, Aimee." He peeked over her shoulder politely to nod at Charon in greeting. It wasn't that hard to do, she was quite short. "Uh- don't mind me saying, but did he snap because of you yet?"

"Well _that's _certainly a fine hello!" She laughed, looking back at the ghoul to see that it looked ike he pretty much had a mental _meltdown _and began to laugh more. "Why don't you come in?"

"Oh- well… I only came to give you something quickly before I made my rounds. Stockholm said he spotted a caravan coming this way- have to go and greet the hustle and bustle, you know."

"Of course, of course!" She smiled. "What is it you have for me?"

"Something a friend of mine picked up from a couple of dead mercenaries." He handed her a slip of paper, which she took with a curious but faraway gaze in her face.

"Mercenaries?" She was unable to get a good look at the document before Charon stepped forward and snatched it out of her hands. She did a double take before giving him an irritated glare. "_Char-bear!_ I was reading that!"

"Thank you for stopping by, Sheriff Simms." He spoke politely, in an albeit impassive tone. "Good luck greeting the new rabble in Megaton."

The sheriff looked like he had something more to say, but the ghoul immediately slammed the door in his face and turned back to stand in the center of the living room.

"_Char-bear!_ I can't believe you just _did _that!" Aimee complained, looking back and forth between him and the door helplessly before shaking his head and walked over to him. "I know that he's not _exactly _your favorite sheriff, but what did you do _that _for?"

"This is a _contract _Aimee," He hissed through clenched teeth, spinning around to wave it in the air in front of her. "It's a contract for _you _and your _head._"

"_**WHAT?**_" She shrieked, snatching the document hastily from his hands as he had done to her only seconds ago, and carefully scanned over the document.

_**Boys and girls, we've got ourselves another holier-than-thou white-knight who needs putting down. Here are the details:**_

_**Name:**__ Aimee Lynn Carter  
><em>_**Race:**__ Caucasian  
><em>_**Sex: **__Female  
><em>_**Eyes:**__ Grey  
><em>_**Hair:**__ Brown  
><em>_**Other:**__ About 4'9"- has recently been seen traveling with a zombie. Zombie suspected of being an under contract bodyguard._

_**The bounty is 1000 caps this time around. And for a change of pace, they want the head this time. Terminate zombie if necessary.**_

_**Good hunting!**_

Aimee lowered the bounty and looked up to Charon, who looked down at her with a strange look in his eyes. A look of… Of _possessiveness._ A look of desire and need to protect. A look of desire and need to keep her _safe…_

Charon remained quiet, still staring at her with that heated look of possesiveness in his eyes and she looked back down to avoid his stare. Little did they know, one was thinking the _exact _same thing as the other at that moment.

_This is __**dangerous.**_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: HEY ALL! New chater, WHOO! Sorry it's SOOO damn long D: But I hope it was worth the read! :3 ****So, what have we covered in this chapter?**

**A litte bit more of Charon's history as Arin Bryne and his lover, the mysterious Rose.**

**Dogmeat seems to favor Charon over Aimee... If you think about it, Dogmeat is loyal to the player because he/she saved him from raiders and took him in (if that was the course of action you took once coming upon the dog). My thought of making Dogmeat loyal to Charon instead of Aimee came from one thought: _"What if _Charon _were the one that saved Dogmeat- _not _Aimee?"_**

**Aimee is hunted by the Talon Company! FOR THE TALON COMPANY! (I do not endorse any criminal activity the Talon Company mercenaries emerse themselves in :3) The bounties they give are so VAGUE, I always wondered how on _Earth _they are able to locate you when all they give is your name, race, and sex on the bounties. The race and sex alone TOTALLY narrows down the search to, like-... HALF THE CAPITAL WASTELAND AND THEY _STILL _MANAGE TO FIND YOU! -huff- so annoying... Anyways, so I decided to add more information to the bounty- such as eye and hair color, and another trait or two that will help pinpoint Aimee more effectively. YOU'E NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO FIND YOUR TARGET WHEN YOU ONLY KNOW THEIR RACE AND GENDER, TALON COMPANY! No wonder why I kicked all of your asses to China and back, honestly =w="**


	42. CHP 42: You're Safe Now

"Food, clothes, ammo, extra food, _extra _clothes, medical suppli- _hey!_ Where's my lunchbox?..." Aimee cried, looking around at the clutter of items that were scattered around her on the floor of her home. She couldn't find the lunchbox she used to hold all of their caps, and Charon's contract.

"_Char-beeeear!_" She cried up the stairs from where she sat in the middle of the room with her legs folded under her. "_I can't find my-_"

Suddenly Dogmeat appeared at her side, sitting on his haunches with her lunchbox hanging by the handle in his mouth. She gave him a small smile of relief.

"Can I have that?" She motioned to the lunchbox and he huffed, almost shaking his head in reluctance. "I'll give you a treat if you do!"

That immediately caught the canine's attention as he snapped his dual-colored eyes back to her, his tail thumping against the floor behind him. He probably would have barked happily if her lunchbox wasn't hindering his ability to do so.

"I've got some Brahmin jerky in the fridge… Jenny down at the Brass Lantern gave it to me. I've tried it once, and it was okay." She commented, getting up from the floor to walk to the fridge with her bad arm bumping against her midsection. After she had woken up and Lucas Simms came to them in warning about the Talon Company, Doc Church stopped by not too long after to check up on her. He ran a few tests- reflex, the span she could move her arm, the pain-scale (what he called seeing how much her arm hurt when he moved it a certain way or direction to get a better feel for the damage), and finally came to the conclusion about the drugs she should be put on and what sort of things she was and was _not _allowed to do.

She _was_ allowed to stay at home and rest.

She _wasn't _allowed to run around, do any heavy lifting, do any sort of _strenuous_ activity, fight … Oh, and she wasn't allowed to leave Megaton until she was fully healed. Period. But, that last part was Charon's orders, not Church's.

"Damnit mutt…" Charon grumped as he came down stairs in his leather armor pants and the black tank top he wore under his armor. He held a forearm against the edge of the ceiling that separated the first floor from the second, watching her pack with a frown on his face.

Dogmeat whuffed as he tore apart the sliver of Brahmin jerky- content that he had something hard to chew on and yank apart. Aimee giggled, shaking her found lunchbox at the ghoul in triumph.

"Were you trying to hide this from me in hopes that I'd change my mind so we wouldn't go?"

"_No._" He replied hastily, letting it be known that he probably _did_ hide it as he made his way down the stairs to stand by the bookcase. "That's _completely _juvenile."

She giggled and pat his arm before kneeling down to put her lunchbox into her bag and cinch it shut.

"Well, even if it _had _worked we'd still leave."

"We can't leave while your arm is in a _sling,_ Aimee." He pointed out tersely. "How effective do you think you'll be in battle with an arm out of commission?"

"We just won't attract attention to ourselves, stick to the shadows, and we should be fine. We're traveling by Metro Station anyways- and all you can find down there are a bunch of ferals, a radroach or two, and maybe a molerat. I don't need both arms for Elaine, I can run just fine- seeing as how I don't need my _arms _to do that… Hey, don't give me that look!"

"_What look?_" He growled out.

Aimee winced. "_That _look… The _"I'm pissed at you so I'm plotting to kill you in your sleep,"_ look."

"I'm not pissed _at _you Aimee- I'm pissed by how naïve and careless your acting." He snapped, causing her to wince again and he folded his arms over his broad chest. "What makes you think James would like to see you in this condition when you find him? Or _worse?_"

"Nothing makes me think that he'd enjoy seeing me like that!" She retorted. "Charon, I've lost too much time already just by being laid up in bed by one thing or another! First Jericho, now Vault 101… The waiting is driving me _nuts!_"

"Well it's driving _me _nuts trying to get you to understand how bad your idea is to go out to _Rivet City _like this!" He barked, squeezing the bridge of his non-existent nose between his eyes.

"_I don't have a choice!_" She barked right back, standing up to her full height- all four feet and nine inches- and stared up at him _right _in the eyes with a snarl pulling her lips taut over her teeth. It made him want to snarl right back at her. "I don't know if he's injured or safe, I don't know if he's going _hungry _or if he's_ sick…_ _**Fuck,**__ I don't even know if he's dead or __**alive, **__Charon!_ So for you to stand there and say that I'm being naïve or careless, the fuck I am! I am fucking _worried _half to death about my father! The longer I'm laid up, the closer he could be to getting hurt or killed or- or _whatever!_" She spun away from him, folding her arms over her chest- which was hard to do, considering one was in a sling. "I just…" She sighed, her shoulders slumping from anger to despair. "I just- I just don't _know_, Charon… I feel like I'm going to lose him any day now, and I won't even know it until it's too late… Until there's nothing I can actually _do…_"

"_**A-Arin… I- I'm going to die…"**_

"…I'm sorry."

Aimee snapped her head up in awe, but continued staring at the wall instead of turning around to face him.

"…What was that?" She asked quietly.

A large hand suddenly clapped down over her head, entangled in her curls and she looked over her shoulder at him. The first thing she saw was the wisdom in his eyes- not wisdom like "the early bird catches the worm," kind of wisdom but the _experienced _kind of wisdom… His sharp blue eyes said "I know how this feels."

"Do I have to say it again?" He grumbled. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like."

"Y- You… _do?"_

"I told you I'm a Pre-War ghoul, Aimee." He deadpanned with a quirked brow. "You don't think I've lost my fair share of people? People I cared about? People I _didn't _care about… Either way, I know loss. I know what it's like to have everything slip through the cracks and become nothing more than a hazy memory."

"Is Rose a hazy memory?"

Charon looked at her unflinchingly- only giving a blink, than another one, as he processed the question she just gave him.

"_Is Rose a hazy memory?"_

He remembered her full, cupid bow-shaped lips- it had always been dressed up in light pinks and natural colors, like a dismissive honey shade he liked on her once upon a time. He remembered her big blue eyes, imitating large sapphires above her shallow cheekbones and perfect nose. She always smiled, always laughed, always made jokes, and she played with her strawberry-blonde hair when she was nervous. She had done that on the first few dates they were on together at the beginning of their relationship.

_No… Rose isn't a hazy memory. Everything __**else **__is,_ his petting hand fell away from Aimee's head. _But not __**her… Never **__her._

"Who is Rose?" Aimee asked innocently, curiosity striking in her grey eyes.

"…That's none of your business," Charon answered, intending more malice to be laced in his gritty voice but it came out pathetic and desperate as he turned away from her to go to the stairs. A small, porcelain-skinned arm slithered from around his side, the hand trailing up his ribcage to the center of his chest where it gripped the cloth of his shirt. She placed her head between his shoulder blades, tightening the grip she had on him with her one good arm in an attempt for a comforting hug.

"I- I'm sorry… I forgot that I promised you once that I wouldn't pry." She spoke softly, so softly his ear canals could barely pick up on the words she uttered. "But I'll be honest when I say that I hope you'll find enough trust in me one day to _make _it my business, Char-bear."

He didn't know how to reply to that. "_You'll __**never **__hear it out of me," "Why does my past concern you?" _and _"Leave it the __**fuck **__alone, Aimee"_ all passed sourly into his mind. It honestly wasn't her business, but what caught him off guard more was the way she _worded _it.

"_I hope you'll find enough trust in me one day to __**make **__it my business, Char-bear."_

He never thought about it before- the word _trust._ He hadn't touched on it in a long time… He almost forgot it was even a _word_. It was an alien object in his mind, something that he knew and understood, but he couldn't define even in his own words. Other alien objects that floated around after that were _love, comfort, honesty _and _friend._

He removed Aimee's arm from around his torso so he could look down at her properly. He placed his hand on her head, gently petting her.

How could the words be alien to him if they were all things Aimee provided from day one of their relationship? She gave him love- giving him a bed to sleep in, food to eat, and frequently spent her own caps to buy _him _clothes and buy _him _weapons and buy _him _food. All his past employers treated him no different than an inanimate object, refusing to let him speak or eat or even _sleep_ sometimes…

This is where comfort came in. She tried to make his relationship with her comfortable. She _gave _him comfort when he found himself stuck in a mental rut, battling himself emotionally and she always found the right words to say to make him feel somewhat better without even knowing what the problem was in the first place because he never said a thing to her if he _did _have a problem. That was another thing that astounded him- she most of the time figured out what the issue was on her own. He was a book without lettering on the pages, and yet she made words and sentences and whole _paragraphs _come to life between the covers.

Aimee was always honest with him. She never kept anything serious away from him, but keeping something secret wasn't necessarily being a liar. Being a liar would be like taking his gun and claiming you didn't have it or claiming it as your own. Being a liar would be like killing an _entire _community and claiming you never did even if the blood of the innocent ones stained the skin on your trembling hands. Being a liar would be like Aimee claiming that she enjoyed his company when in truth she didn't, but that wasn't a problem for him because he knew most people disliked his company because he was a ghoul. Where the problem lay was the fact that she _did _enjoy his company. She _did _like being around him, and he still couldn't figure out why.

All of the above had tied themselves up into that one last word he hadn't used since Rose died and the bombs fell not too long after…_Friend._ She was his friend because she gave him love. She was his friend because she gave him comfort. She was his friend because she gave him honesty.._._ And _he _was _her _friend because she was _Aimee._ If she gave him all of this willingly and unselfishly, why couldn't _he_ give_ her_ something? Why couldn't he give her trust? He _did_ trust her, didn't he? He honestly didn't know… He thought he did, but now that he was questioning it…

_She never gave me a reason not to trust her… But she's given me __**many**__ reasons to trust her. I trust her with my contract. I trust her not to prod about Rose. I trust her to listen to what I have to say and to at __**least **__think about her choices before jumping head-first into the lion's den._

"Maybe, one day… I'll tell you." Charon finally answered and gave a single nod- which was more for him than for her. "I'll tell you one day."

Aimee beamed at him, nodding back and pressed her forehead into the giant hand still on her head, fingers entangled in her chocolate girls and she closed her eyes.

"Alright... I trust you."

"What do you mean?"

She opened her eyes slightly. "I mean that- well… Honestly, I don't know. I just trust you… I thought that you needed to know that."

He continued to pet her in silence before she hurried away to finish packing so they could leave. Despite his better judgement, he said she was allowed to leave Megaton under a few conditions- one, they'd buy more Stimpaks and Med-X for her injuries. The Stimpaks gave a sort of medicinal boost that allowed her to move her arm for some time. She _wouldn't _really be able to use it like normally, but keeping up the unharmed appearance would discourage raiders from trying to attack them. The second condition was that she not strain herself, and no matter the enemy, to keep quiet and sneak away. If that failed, then she was to stick as _close _to him as possible and let _him_ handle the situation. The third was that they take breaks when _he _said they needed a break, whether she was tired or not, he was calling the shots… Well, not really calling shots- he was more of a helpful advisor. A _very _helpful advisor. A very helpful advisor that would keep her from getting _killed._

So not too long after arguing about the conditions, Aimee reluctantly agreeing and spending the caps to buy the medical supplies that coincided with the first condition, they left Megaton.

"_Alright… I trust you."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean that- well… Honestly, I don't know. I just trust you… I thought that you needed to know that."_

Charon looked to his employer, bobbing happily along the dirt road while singing a happy tune that sounded a lot like "Mr. Sandman" with Dogmeat snapping at his heels playfully.

_I trust you too, Glowworm… I trust you too._

* * *

><p>The three were coming up over the ridge that led to Wilhelm's Wharf where Grandma Sparkle stayed. Aimee asked if they could spend a moment or two to talk to the old woman- as she hadn't seen Sparkle since she was hit by that Deathclaw all those months ago. Charon agreed because it would mean a rest for her and so they could eat, even though they left Megaton only about an hour ago- probably even <em>less <em>than that, but it was around the late afternoon time because they spent most of the morning gearing up and then _arguing _about her injury and how she would hold up past Megaton's walls.

But not even before they looked at the tin shack did Dogmeat stop and sniff at the air before pulling his lips back over his sharp teeth, snarling with his ears pulled sharply back on his head.

"Huh? What is it?" Aimee stopped, looking over her shoulder and placed her hand on her hip. Her injured arm hung limply at her side, but it looked pretty casual. She looked to Charon. "What's wrong with him?"

"Dogmeat." He called as he looked to the canine and then down the road, drawing his gun, almost wordlessly asking what the problem was as he scanned the area ahead of them. Then, he saw what the problem was- _**just**__ as Dogmeat let out a loud series of barks._

Charon grabbed Aimee by her good arm and pulled her over to hide behind a large rock that was off to the side of the cracked cement road they were traveling on _just _as three Talon Company Mercenaries speaking to Grandma Sparkle turned their heads to the noise. The surprise of being yanked away caused Aimee to stumble, and the momentum of it caused her to stumble _right _into Charon and pin him against the side of the boulder. He didn't mind, or probably didn't seem to _notice,_ but soon enough he had an arm wrapped around her lower waist and hugged her closely to him, settling her between his long legs. He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered.

"_Be quiet. Don't say a __**thing.**_" He rasped.

Aimee felt her throat tighten as she looked up into his sharp blue eyes, and could feel everything that was red in the world drain into her face at that moment. She gave a stiff nod.

"_Wha- What ab- bout Dog- m- meat?"_ She sputtered, almost having difficulty choking the words out, and forced herself to look away from his stern gaze at the canine that was still on the road, barking and snarling. The ghoul grimaced, letting out a low string of grumbles before biting his lower lip between his teeth and let out a brief whistle. The ears on Dogmeat's head perked up and he stopped barking, immediately traipsing over to hide with them.

"_Good boy._" Aimee muttered, still refusing to look back at Charon. But then, she was suddenly pulled closer to his chest- so close _her _chest touched his because her good arm squeezed out from between them and was against the rock at his side. He craned his neck up over the boulder a bit, just enough to watch what was going on down at the wharf shack.

_Shit… Didn't think we'd find __**them **__so close to home…_ He seethed, keeping his arm around Aimee's waist but _completely _oblivious of his doing so.

She looked up into his face, watching with astonishment as his features contorted similarly into what Dogmeat had earlier. It was an expression of total and utter need to protect… But in Charon's face, it was a little different. It was almost _possessive._ Needless to say, she couldn't have seen a better image in her life. The blush on her face brightened to a hot red shade and her heart began to thump wildly in her chest. She was _nervous?_ Why nervous?... It wasn't the first time she had been this close to the ghoul… But then, she realized her heart was pretty much dancing around in her ribcage because this was the closest they had ever gotten to something that was so seemingly… _Intimate._ She recalled once feeling drowsy and he was carrying her when he must have jumped over something or stumbled or-… or _something._ Because suddenly his hand was cupping her ass, and she could have sworn that her heart literally _stopped _in her chest at that moment as she softly called out his name.

An image of Charon pinning her against the very boulder they were hiding behind flashed into her mind suddenly- her chest moving in ragged exhales as he gave her one of those little taunting smirks he contained but rarely used as he pressed his lips to the corner of her own, kissing down, down, _down _the crook of her jaw, the side of her neck, lightly nibbling on her collar bone… Cupping the supple flesh of her ass in one hand, pulling up her leg to wrap it around his waist as he ground his-

Aimee gave a small noise of surprise at what she was thinking and she wriggled her arm up from the boulder at Charon's side, tightly latching onto the front of his armor and she buried her face into his chest as she clenched her eyes tightly shut, taking deep inhales of his scent to calm herself. Charon looked down at her, noticing her quick shift in movement.

"_Aimee?_" He whispered, his brows furrowing slightly together, believing that she was worried or scared- he could actually _feel _her heart thumping hard and fast in her ribcage. He could hear how heavily she was breathing... "_It's alright. Just a few from the Talon Company- just as long as they don't come this way, we should be fine._" He turned his eyes back to look over the boulder, watching them continue to speak to Grandma Sparkle… They sure were taking their damn _sweet _time.

"_I- I'm not worried!..."_ She mumbled into his chest, tightening her grip on his armor to the point that it actually _squeaked_ under her grasp.

"_Then what's wrong?"_

"_Nothing's wrong!"_ She hissed like a radroach.

That was when he realized that his arm was around her waist and she was settled between his legs, pressed against his torso with her face buried into his chest. She looked like a frightened child. What was wrong with her?

"_Aimee… Aimee, look at me."_ He demanded, but she shook her head in refusal. _"__**Glowworm.**_"

_That _certainly caught her to tense up, and after a few seconds she finally looked up into his eyes. Her face was bright red and her lips were parted slightly as she inhaled and exhaled as if she were having trouble breathing. He placed his free hand against her forehead as a pang of concern ripped through him.

"_Are you alright?_" She almost seemed to flinch from his touch, but he pretended not to notice. "_Did I hurt your arm when I grabbed you?"_

"_No…"_ She looked to the limp limb hanging at her side, keeping her gaze there so she wouldn't have to look at him. Dogmeat came over and began to lick her hand, but he doubted she could feel it and she knew she _certainly _couldn't feel it. _"I'm fine…"_

Charon didn't believe that for a moment. She was acting like something was wrong but _claimed _that nothing was wrong- and he didn't see reason for anything to be wrong. Well, other than the fact that three mercenaries from the most cut-throat band in the Wasteland was looking for his friend and employer who, coincidentally, happened to be vulnerable with an immobile limb… But if she were worried about the Talon Company, she would have asked him a million questions about the three down the road or asked him to take care of them. She liked to quickly deal with whatever worried her so it would _stop _worrying her.

Then, he realized what the problem could have been. _She doesn't want me touching her like this._ His arm, the one around her waist, slowly began to loosen from her.

"_Do you want me to stop touching you?"_

"_N- __**No!**__" _Aimee cried, looking back up at him so the hand that was on her forehead was knocked back to sit on the top of her head. _"Char-bear, I'm fine, __**really… **__Just hold me._"

He noted that she sounded so- so _sure, _and gave an inaudible sigh at his reluctance to let the issue go even though their seemed to be not much wrong that he could point out. He wrapped his arm back around her waist and held her close so her head rested against his chest and wrapped his other arm around her, trailing his hand up to pet her head as he turned back to look over the boulder and watch the mercenaries dressed in black combat armor.

"_It'll be fine."_ He answered, but for once he wasn't all too sure.

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes felt like they had turned into _hours _before the three mercenaries bade farewell to Grandma Sparkle, and Charon watched as they stepped off the wharf platform and onto the road in the falling afternoon sun that had reached the horizon by then. He stopped petting Aimee, and she cocked her head back to look up at him. She was no longer red, no longer breathing heavily, and her quickened heart felt back to normal.

"_What's wrong?_" She whispered. "_Are they coming this way?_" She removed her hand from his armor to grab at Elaine, her SMG, which was holstered on her hip.

"_Hold it,"_ He snapped, grabbing her hand to clutch it against her hip so she couldn't move it. "_I don't know which way they're going. They just stopped on the road. They haven't moved yet."_

"_What do we do?"_

"…_We __**wait.**_" He looked back over the boulder, intently watching the three mercenaries. If they came this way, he'd have to kill them- get the jump on them before any of them saw Aimee _or _him. If the Talons saw them first, they'd be royally _fucked _with a golden spoon. He let out a breath of relief as they began walking towards the bridge past Wihelm's Wharf, in the opposite direction of them. _"They're going to the bridge."_

"_**What?**__" _Aimee barked in alarm, pulling back from him to look around the side of the boulder. "_No!_ _We have to go that way and follow the river! That's how we get to Rivet City by the metro stations!"_

"You can stop whispering, they're far enough away…" He murmured.

"…Shuddup." She continued watching them, eyes widening as they went past the bridge and continued walking. "Huh?... They just completely bypassed the bridge…"

Charon removed his hand from her waist and peeked out with her. "Seems like it…"

"But I don't have anything registered past the bridge. Well, nothing _important,_ anyways…" She glanced at him over her shoulder. "The Citadel is that way, but it's closed to anyone who isn't a part of the BoS. If they ever tried infiltrating it the troops would pound their ass into the ground… Why are they going that way?"

"Would you care to follow them and find out?"

"…No."

"Then keep it as their business and pray that they don't have a lead on us." He answered, stepping out from behind the boulder when the last Talon merc went farther up the road and out of sight. "It's getting dark- we need to find a place to make camp."

"We can keep going during the night!" She pouted.

Charon snapped his eyes to her dangerously. "_Violating condition number three."_ He hissed.

Aimee tensed, blinking before turning her face away with a sigh of irritation. "Look at who's ordering _who_ around…"

"I'm not ordering you around," He sighed. "I gave you conditions that you had to follow if you wanted to go to Rivet City to continue looking for your father. You should be grateful that I even let you out of the _house _with your arm like this," He looked to the limp limb. "Which I am now regretting doing so…"

"…Your right." She glanced away as if she were a smile child being scolded. In truth, it sort of _was _like that. "I'm sorry."

Dogmeat trudged up to Charon's side and sat on his haunches, looking back and forth at each other as if watching an intense ball match. Aimee suddenly smiled up at him and pointed down to the Wharf.

"We should ask Grandma Sparkle what the Talon Company wanted," She stated. "Maybe we could find if they're hunting for me or where they went so we could steer _clear _of them."

He nodded in agreement, finding it to be a good idea and they walked onto Whilhelm's Wharf with Dogmeat trudging after them happily.

"Oh my stars!" Grandma Sparkle exclaimed as Dogmeat began swatting around a stray tin can across the platform, barking at it happily. "I haven't seen you in forever, child! I see you survived that Deathclaw just fine. Didn't think some ole' lizard like _that _was gunna getcha!"

She gave the old woman a small hug. "It's nice to see you again, Grams. You remember Charon, right?"

"Of course I do! He's the feller that saved yer life!" She exclaimed, going over to the ghoul to give him a big hug. "_C'mere!_ Any friend of this lil' angel is a friend of mine!"

Aimee looked to him. The uncomfortable expression on his face immediately caused her lips to break into a warm smile, coughing into her hand to cover up the fact that she was trying to keep herself from laughing.

"I can tell he ain't a hugger!" Grandma Sparkle pulled back, looking up into his face. "Ya two hungry? Got some fresh Mirelurk cakes- no charge fer the big feller here fer takin' care of my lil' darlin' angel!"

"Grams, you're too kind." She blushed with slight embarrassment. "That won't be necessary- we have plenty of food to last us. We just need a place to stay for the night, 'cause it's getting pretty late." She looked up to the rapidly darkening sky. "And we need to ask you some questions."

"Waddya got for me?"

"We saw those Talon Company mercenaries talking to you," She began, keeping secret that they had actually been hiding behind a rock for about half an hour- maybe even _longer _than that. "Why were they talking to you?"

"Oh, _them._" She frowned. "Those buncha ne'er-do-wells came down the road t'git somethin' t'eat. After they ate and paid, they kept askin' me if I knew _anyone_ from this bounty that they're huntin' for." She turned away to the garbage can in the corner of the Wharf and pulled off the head of it, digging inside to find a crumpled up piece of paper. She came back to them with it, and Aimee took it gingerly- smoothing out all the flaws in it.

It was a copy of the bounty Lucas Simms had given her yesterday.

"It's you their lookin' for, ain't it?" The old woman asked wearily, folding her arms over her chest. "I didn't even need t'_look_ at the information on it t'know it's you they're after. So's before you ask, I didn't tell them a God-forsaken _thing!_"

She smiled appreciatively. "Thanks Grams. Do you know where they're going?"

"Haven't gotta clue in mind, they were a pretty hushity-hush group." She scratched her head. "Nothin' I can tell you that'd be helpful, child. Most of the time they spent here was to eat, and then _harass _me 'bout this bounty they got."

"If they come to you again, _don't _fight them, Grams. They'll hurt you." Aimee frowned. "If they come again, tell them that I had stopped by and told you that I was on my way to D.C. to visit Three Dog."

"Now _why _would I do a thing like that?" She exclaimed.

"Because I don't want you getting hurt?..."

"No, child! I mean, why would you want me to _out _you to those petty felons?"

"For starters, I'm not going to D.C." She smiled. "But to give you legitimate absence of knowledge, I'm not going to tell you _where _I'm going. I'm only saying that you should tell them to head to D.C. because I'm sure the Super Mutants will give them some trouble once they get there. Anyways, if they come, tell them what I said and once they leave go to Megaton and speak with Sheriff Simms. Tell him I sent you and to give you the spare key to my house."

"Oh, child… You're _too _much sometimes!" She exclaimed but gave a thankful smile, slapping her hand to her wrinkled forehead. "I wish I could repay you… But 'ya can't stay here, unfortunately." The old woman looked back to Aimee and frowned. "I'm sorry to say the most I kin do fer you is t'give 'ya some food! My little shack isn't big enough to house three people!"

Aimee sighed, brushing her bangs back out of her eyes. "I was afraid of that… I guess we'll have to make our way to Tepid Sewers and sleep it out over there. Well- after we clear out the molerats and whatnot…"

But then, Grandma Sparkles' face lit up and she stepped up to the two. "Ya know, there's a nice gentleman across the bridge up there yonder! Kicks his feet up in a big, Old World hotel 'er somethin' past the sewers and the memorial. Has two women with him- he gets his liquor and his meals from me 'cause the caravans don't come that way. They _always _pass by me, though." She winked a wrinkled eyelid. "Pays _good _for the liquor. Give him a bottle and he should letcha in."

She tensed up, eyes widening and she slapped a hand to her forehead. "Good lord… _Please _don't tell me you're talking about Dukov, Grams."

"In fact, I am!" She nodded, folding her arms over her chest. "That's the feller."

"Damnit…" Aimee snapped her eyes up to Charon and gave a wan, crooked smile. "Well, we don't have booze, but we've got something that'll probably work better to get us into Dukov's."

"What would that be?" The ghoul figured caps could work just as well- this Dukov guy would be able to get a few bottles of the good stuff if they gave him enough… But suddenly, she was strutting towards him, peeling off her armor top to reveal a dirty off-white tank top underneath, the bandages of her shoulder with dried blood on it, and handed the armor to him as Grandma Sparkle went back into her shack to get food for the two. Aimee pulled off her pack and placed it in his arms on top of her armor top, yanking it open to pull out clothes.

"Are we just going to pay him to let us in?" He finally asked.

"No, he'd charge us a fuck and a half for _our _company."

"_A __**fuck **__and a-?... __**What?**_"

She unraveled the clothing that she had pulled out. A blue-grey business suit ripped at the sleeves so it was around mid-bicep, ripped at the skirt so it was mid-thigh, and fishnet tights were coiled up along with a leather belt unfurled from inside the cloth once she unfolded it.

Charon narrowed his eyes at her, feeling a slit of anger stab into his chest.

"You are _not_ wearing that." He deadpanned immediately.

Aimee grinned from ear to ear.

"'Ya wanna bet, _big feller?_" She quipped, mimicking Grandma Sparkles' drawl.

He bared his teeth at her, yanking the clothes from her grasp with a raging _inferno _of fury causing him to want to through the outfit into the water, but he held himself back from doing so to keep from upsetting her.

"What makes you think _this _will work? And where did you get an outfit like this _anyways?_"

"I pieced it together." She pouted. "It's kinda like Nova's- the woman who used to work for Moriarty… B- Besides! Just 'cause I'm young doesn't mean that I don't _know_ what men like!"

"Have you _even_ had sex before, Aimee?" He grumped.

Her face flushed red at the '_S'_ word and she swallowed hard.

"…That's what I thought." He replied awkwardly, stuffing the outfit back into her bag. "What makes you think you know what men what?"

"I know that they stare at me from across Megaton with a tenting problem in their pants." She looked to the dark orange-pink sky. "I know what they fantasize about. Wanting to touch me all over- they want me to use my hands and my mouth on them..." Her cheeks and nose flushed pink and she refused to look at him. Probably just _thinking _about sex made her feel dirty.

Some _lovely _mental images popped up into Charon's head as she gave vague descriptions. Her on top of a table, him hunched over her, grabbing her hips till they were marked with bruises and he could feel his heart skip a beat in his chest. He cleared his throat before talking, refusing to look at her as well.

"What makes you think I can't use a little _persuasion_ with my shotgun?"

"Because Dukov _freaks_ when he sees an unholstered gun around him!" She stared back at him in horror.

Charon arched a brow at her.

"…Oh."

* * *

><p>The door for the Old World hotel slammed open, revealing Dukov holding a bottle of whiskey and wearing red satin sleepwear- not unusual for him, considering he looked just like when they first met. Buzzed, and possibly having been interrupted in the midst of having sex with either Fantasia or Cherry… Or probably both at the same time.<p>

"Who the _fuck _is it?" He asked in a thick, Russian accent, taking a swig from his bottle.

"Aw, did I… _interrupt _your playtime, Dukov?"

"Aw, my little pussy cat comes back to her scratching post," He grinned. "Came back for a little _fun-_ huh sweet cheeks?" He asked cockily, leaning into the doorframe and took another swig. "Get that sharp stick outta your sweet ass, yet?"

"Depends. Do you have your _head_ out of your ass, yet?" She smiled, stepping up to him with her face contorted into a vulnerable smile that resembled that of a small child.

"Aw, _baby!_ 'Ya know I like a little claw on the pussy I'm playing with!" He bellowed laughter.

"We just need a place to stay, Dukov. _Purely_ business."

He eyed her up and down, licking his lips when they fell upon her breasts. "Sure, whatever you say, sweet cheeks… But 'ya know I'm gonna need some _compensation _if you wanna stay _here _tonight."

"Lay one fucking _finger _on her- I'll rip your arm off and shove it so far up your ass you'll be doing sign language out your mouth." Charon hissed, stepping into the light at Aimee's side. "Is keeping your arm compensation enough?"

"_What the-?_" The tipsy Russian exclaimed, stumbling back. "Eh! Who invited _this_ ugly fuck to the party?"

"I said _we _needed a place to stay, didn't I, Dukov?" Aimee grinned, stepping in to look at him with a hand on her hip. "And if you talk to Charon like that again, I will _end _you." She giggled sweetly, and the Russian swallowed hard. "C'mon- just for the night. _Please?_"

"_Fine!_" He exclaimed, eyeing Charon wearily. "I don't got a problem with ghouls, but your little guard dog creeps me the fuck out."

She giggled, stepping into the Old World hotel and smiled at him sweetly. "Yeah, he does that sometimes."

Charon walked in after Aimee, glaring at Dukov the whole time as Dogmeat slipped by and barked happily.

"Nice mutt," Dukov spoke.

Dogmeat snarled at him, barking angrily this time.

"Yeah, if you have the intention of getting your balls ripped off and swallowed." She grinned.

* * *

><p>"O- Oh, <em>Dukov!<em>" Fantasia mewled. Or was that Cherry?... Either way, Aimee didn't care. It was three in the _fucking _morning, and neither she nor Charon could sleep a wink. They couldn't sleep _forty _winks if they wanted to! The three were making too much damn noise!

"_**DUKOV!**_" Aimee bellowed as loudly as she could over the mewling, sexual growling, and skin smacking against skin that sent horrible images straight to her head. She pounded a fist on his door. "_Stop making so much damn __**noise! **__I can't __**sleep!**_"

The door suddenly opened and Dukov stood in front of her, fucking _naked,_ with a big shit-eating _grin _on his face.

"_Sweet Mary mother and __**Joseph!**_" She cried out in disgust, spinning around and covered her eyes. "Put some _damn _clothes on, you letch! I wanna _sleep_- I don't want any damn _nightmares!_"

"Heh," He chortled, and she heard the sound of rustling as he disappeared back into the room he was sharing with the girls. "_Ey!_ Keep goin', Daddy just needs a smoke." He came back out in his red satin sleepwear pants and a cigarette between his lips as he slammed the door behind him and made his way to the railing where she stood, covering her eyes.

"You still got that stick up your ass," He stated with the grin still on his face.

"And_ you_ still have your head up your ass," She snapped. "Are you dressed, yet?"

"Why don't you take a look 'n see, sweet cheeks?"

"…Didn't I _just _say I didn't want any nightmares?"

He chuckled, taking a deep drag and looked up at her. "Yer a virgin."

"Am not…" She finally uncovered her eyes bravely.

"Are too," He taunted, leaning into the railing on his elbows. "Wanna know _how _I know, sweet cheeks? 'Cause if you saw a dick before, 'ya wouldn't have turned away when you saw _mine._"

"So _what?_ You expect me to just drop to my knees and fucking praise that pathetic thing you call a cock if I wasn't a virgin?" She glared up at him.

"Aw, _baby_, the things you _do _to me just by talkin' like that…" He complained heartily as he grinned from ear to ear, straightening up and took another drag. "And the things I'd do to _you…_ Oh, the sweet _things_ I'd do to you! I never had a virgin before."

Realization hit Aimee like a baseball bat to the back of the head, and red flushed into the deepest part of her face as her eyes widened in horror.

"I- I never said I was a _virgin!_"

"'Ya know, I don't like _liars_ in my house, sweet cheeks." He stubbed the cigarette out on the balcony railing.

Aimee snorted half-heartedly. "Then go ahead and kick me out, I wouldn't have a problem with that." She announced as he stepped around her. She looked down at the light fixture hanging from the ceiling- which was in the shape of two women on top of one another.

"Aw _no_, sweet cheeks." He came up behind her, grabbing her hands and pinning them down on the railing so she was slightly bent over. He pressed his body flush up behind her, his chest against her back, his groin against her ass, and his lips wavered over her ear. "Dukov _punishes _liars."

"Du- Duko- _oh!_" She clenched her eyes tightly shut as he lightly nibbled on the shell of her ear before slathering it with his tongue, his lips dancing down to the crook of her jaw where it met with her neck and lightly sucked there before blowing cool air onto it.

"Ya know _how _I punish liars?" He asked tauntingly as her breath began to quicken and she struggled against him, only causing him to take both of her wrists in one of his hands and pin them to the railing. The other hand grazed against her stomach, slowly traveling up to the hem of her night shirt to slide underneath.

"Du- Duk-… _n- no-…_" She could barely make out the words. What was going _on?_ What was he _doing _to her? And why wasn't she _stopping _him?

"Can't guess yet, sweet cheeks?" He grinned against her neck, fingers continuing to travel up- they were at the base of her ribcage now. "Well, since it's your first time, Dukov'll be _sweet _on you…"

His fingers were at the cup of her bra now, digging his nails in to pull the cloth down when suddenly-

"_Augh!_" Dukov fell limp into her before slumping to the ground on his back, clutching the side of his bleeding head with his face twisted into a partially startled, partially _angry _expression.

"I said that if you fucking laid one God-damn _finger _on her…" Charon came over and stomped a heavy boot onto Dukov's chest, pinning him there. The combat knife in his hand glinted in the light of the woman-on-woman light fixture. "_I hope you know sign language, you __**wasted **__sack of skin and vomit."_

"Ch- _Charon!_" Aimee cried, spinning away from the railing but continued to grip it with trembling hands so she wouldn't fall to her knees, gazing up with wide eyes at the ghoul.

"Pack your shit. We're leaving."

"Wha- _What?_" She exclaimed. Dogmeat ran over, barking wildly at Dukov, who was still on the ground, trying to pry Charon's foot off his chest. Fantasia and Cherry stood in the doorway of their bedroom, donning nothing but skimpy red satin nightwear, gawking down at the middle-aged man who "took care" of them.

Charon snapped his eyes to her- as sharp, menacing, and _shiny _as his combat knife in the light.

"_Pack. __**Now.**_" He emphasized crudely.

"Alright, alright…" She murmured, grabbing his arm and looked to Dukov. "Just-… Just leave him alone."

"_No._" He growled, looking back down at Dukov with hell's fire in his eyes.

"_Yes!_" She pleaded, looking to Cherry and Fantasia. If Dukov were killed, how were they going to survive? He got their food, he got their clothes, he got _everything _they needed and he protected them…She didn't doubt that the girls knew how to take care of themselves, but they were with Dukov for a reason.

He looked to the two whores and they both tensed up in place, clutching each other tightly in fear as they trembled under his glare. He seemed to have gotten the message Aimee was trying to give, because he lowered his blade and turned to Dogmeat, grabbing the canine by his collar and dragging him back to the room they were sharing on the other side of the second floor.

She took one last look at Dukov writhing on the floor before running after the ghoul with the naked skin of her soles slapping against the tiled floor. She entered their room and slammed the door, turning back to the ghoul while she panted heavily. He was already packing. He stopped to look at her.

"You shouldn't have let him liv-" He began.

But Aimee cut Charon off by striding to him, getting up onto her tiptoes and smashed her plump lips against his ruined ones- fingers digging into his black shirt and tightened unto the fabric as she clenched her eyes shut. He stood before her awkwardly, as he _always _did when she kissed him- never returning it but never pulling back either- until she pulled back herself with that disappointed look on her face. He couldn't understand how she managed to stomach kissing him every time she did it… But his thoughts were overridden when he realized how soft her lips were. He suddenly remembered the first time he came into contact with them- when he had to give her CPR when they first met… So when she pulled back from him, that expression of disappointment slathered onto her face, for some reason- and for the first time out of _all _the times she kissed him- he couldn't help but feel disappointed, too.

"Th- Thanks…" She murmured, letting him go and stared at her bare feet with her face flushing red. "I- I don't know why I didn't push him away… I-…"

Charon brought her to him, tilting her chin up so he could look her in the eye as he pet her head to tide back the tears that were ebbing into the corners of her eyes.

And then, her words from this morning flashed into his head.

"_I mean that- well… Honestly, I don't know. I just trust you… I thought that you needed to know that."_

"It's alright, Glowworm… You're safe now. I'm not going to _ever _let _anyone _touch you like that again…"


	43. CHP 43: Ghouls Come Out To Play PART 1

**A/N: HEY READERS! Welcome to another chapter of Another War For Your Textbooks! :D**

**A few things before you get to reading- if you have been following my story A Trial of Risk and Fall, it will NOT be updated today. The chapter is not finished yet because I have been quite busy! Well, it IS finished, it just needs a little bit of tweaking because I'm not happy enough with it to actually POST it =w= Sorry guys!**

**Another thing- I have a poll on my profile that I would like my readers to vote in! It's simple, really. Aimee's story will be hitting the 100 reviews mark soon, and in celebration I wanted to post a story for you guys! But there's a little issue I have right now- I have several stories that I would like to post for the 100 reviews celebration, but I don't know which one to post. The poll will give you, as the reader, the chance to make this decision for me! So go and vote on which story you would like to be posted :D**

**Oh, and one last thing- about this chapter... -clears throat- THIS CHAPTER HAS RATED XXX CONTENT! IF YOU DON'T LIKE, OR IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ADULT SITUATIONS, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ! ****This is only part ONE to the rated XXX content "chapter". The second part of it, which features MORE rated XXX content will be posted NEXT week (unless I feel generous and post it sometime later on today ;3 PERSUADE ME TO POST IT AND I MOST CERTAINLY WILL! Just cause I love you guys so much :D).**

**So, yeah- no new chapter for A Trial of Risk and Fall today, poll on my profile, and rated XXX stuff in this chapter**

**Love it.**

**Thanks for your time, guys! You're awesome- _really._**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Charon gripped Aimee's arm to keep her balanced as they trudged up- or, to be more precise, <em>crawled <em>up- the metro station elevator and onto the cracked concrete platform under the glimmering sun. She suddenly dropped to her knees, breathing heavily, and gripped her injured and now _bleeding _shoulder with her free hand. The other held Charlie, her combat knife, which was bloodied and had snags of flesh caught in his teeth.

"We're almost there," He announced, looking up to the metal structure that served as Rivet City's entrance. He knelt down at her side, surveying her injuries. He had seen a feral ghoul come up from behind and took a swipe at her. She tried ducking out of the way, but it still got her shoulder pretty good.

"Ju- Just my stitching…" She answered in a hard murmur, trying to give him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really... Just need to get sewn back up."

"We'll find the doctor here. You can look for Dr. Li and your father _after _you're taken care of."

Dogmeat suddenly came up behind the two with a mottled radroach in his mouth. He dropped it at Charon's feet as a present, barking happily as he sat back on his haunches with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"Oh look," He gave the dead radroach an impassive glance. "_Dinner._" He deadpanned, causing Aimee to giggle before wincing in pain.

"D- Don't make me la- laugh… Please," She whined, looking up at him. "We- We don't need a doctor… I have my sewing kit in my bag along with all the supplies we need. You can take care of me, can't you?"

He shot her a wary look. "I'd feel better taking you to the city's doctor."

"Char-bear, do _you_ want to spend a hundred-something caps just to get me sewn up?" She quirked an eyebrow. "We can do it ourselves- how good are you with a needle?"

"…Pretty good." He answered hesitantly.

She gave him a smile as she slowly stood up. "Then that settles it," She looked to the ship. "Let's get going."

The trio made their way up the metal structure that sat across the river from Rivet City. Dogmeat carried the radroach in his mouth as Aimee stopped in front of the water beggar, offering him a bottle of purified water and a box of _Yum Yum's_. He thanked her kindly as he devoured his meal and she went to the edge of the structure, looking down into the water and whistled.

"_Woah._ Far drop."

"There's an intercom here," Charon stated as he came up to her side. Dogmeat sat by the water beggar and began tearing into the radroach carcass, accompanying the beggar as he sloppily ate his own meal.

Aimee glanced over and smiled. "There _is._ Pretty nice way of defense, if you ask me. It's like they got their own personal _moat-_ like medieval castles used to have or something."

He eyed her strangely.

"I read it in a book once," She answered and went to the intercom, pressing her finger to it. "Uh, hello? Pizza delivery!"

The two looked back to see a man pull himself from the front door of the city and peer back at them across the river. He made no attempt to communicate back or extend the bridge.

"'Ya like what 'ya see?" She asked into the intercom, making a flirtatious pose. "If 'ya bring out the bridge, you can get a closer _looook._" She said in a singsong voice.

Charon pulled her hand from the intercom button. "_Don't tell him __**that.**_" He hissed.

"_Fine,_" She sighed. "You're no fun…"

"_**State your business in Rivet City.**_" The intercom buzzed.

"We're looking for my father- James Carter."

"_**Haven't heard anyone by that name.**_"

"Well is there a Dr. Li on the ship?" She sighed tiredly. "I've been told she knows where my dad is… Besides, I'm injured. I need a doctor and my friends need a place to rest."

Her pleas were met back with silence over the static and she pulled back from it, gazing up at Charon and shook her head.

"I guess they-"

Her words were cut off as a loud shrieking and rumbling noise came a head of them. She clamped her hand to her ear, still cringing because she couldn't move her other hand to clamp over her other ear and the shrill noise was practically _penetrating _her eardrums… The two looked over, Dogmeat jumping up from his half-eaten meal with frantic barking as a bridge swayed towards them, extending from Rivet City to the metal structure.

"…Well _that _was easy." She marveled, stepping onto the bridge to make her way across with Charon following her. Dogmeat picked up whatever remained of his meal and followed after them.

"If you have any questions or problems, direct yourself to Commander Danvers or myself- I'm Commander Harkness." The man who extended the bridgespoke with a cautious look in his piercing blue eyes. He had a plasma rifle drawn. "If we find _you_ to be a problem, _I _will direct _you _out of Rivet City by way of nearest porthole."

"Thanks for the warm welcome," Aimee eyed him sharply.

"Welcome to Rivet City." He replied. "Now what is this about Dr. Li?"

"I was told my father came here looking for her."

"I see…" He looked to the door. "You can find her in the Science Lab working on her experiments with her team. We get a lot of newcomers so I wouldn't be able to pinpoint if I saw your father."

"Grey hair, blue eyes, about middle-aged… _Maybe _wearing a Vault 101 jumpsuit?"

His eyes widened. "You're that kid from the Vault- that saint Three Dog keeps rambling on about."

"I wouldn't mind if you kept that on the down low," She smiled nervously. "I may be a saint, but I can't exactly take a bullet to the skull if 'ya know what I mean."

"I hear you," He nodded. "I haven't seen anyone in a Vault suit, but I _did_ hear from Commander Danvers that there was a man here by your description who _did _talk to Dr. Li… But I think you're a little late, kid."

Aimee's face paled significantly. Charon took notice and stepped closer to her. She gripped his arm tightly, hands shaking, and she chewed on her lower lip as Dogmeat came up and placed his head under her limp hand, whimpering with sympathy.

Harkness stared at them strangely- probably never seeing a pretty young woman and a ghoul so close to one another before, acting like old friends.

"He was last here about… Uh- if I remember right, about two months ago."

Her jaw dropped to the floor. "_Are you fucking __**serious?**_" She boomed.

He furrowed his brows together. "I'm sorry kid. You can still go in and get checked up and talk to Dr. Li, but he isn't here."

"Th- Thanks, Commander Harkness…" She murmured, dropping her head as her shoulders began to bob angrily. "You've been helpful…"

"No problem, but I gotta get back to my shift."

Aimee was already walking away by now, pulling open the front door with her good arm as Dogmeat slipped between her legs to run into the marketplace. Charon followed her, feeling pity well up in his gut as he watched her walk. She looked lost- dazed and confused… And he couldn't help but feel so useless to her in that moment- like there was nothing he could do.

But he found himself wanting to try.

"C'mon, Glowworm…" He murmured in her ear, and she stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at him with watery, glazed over eyes- like she was in another place, way far off from here. "We'll find a place to bunk and I'll sew you up. We'll rest, get something to eat, and then we'll speak with Dr. Li. Sound good?"

She gave a silent nod as she grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly as she stared at her feet. Dogmeat stood in front of the two, watching them curiously.

"I- I can't believe we missed him by _two __**months…**_" She murmured dubiously, the tears rolling down her cheeks and she bit her lower lip to keep from sobbing.

"We'll find him, Glowworm." He stroked her cheeks with his thumb, removing the tears from her face but didn't bother squeezing her hand back.

"Pr- Promise?..." She hiccupped, looking up at him.

"_I promise._"

* * *

><p>"O- <em>Ow!...<em>" Aimee winced, sitting between Charon's long legs on the bed in the hotel room they were now sharing. They asked one of Rivet City's security guards for directions to a place where they could sleep and he told them to go to the Weatherly Hotel for a room. It cost _just_ as much money for the room as it wouldhave if she went to the ship's doctor to get stitched.

"Hold still," Charon hissed from behind her. "I can't get all this out if you keep _moving…_"

"Well it _hurts!_"

"I _told _you to take the Med-X," He raised a brow muscle at her. "You were too stubborn to take it, so you'll deal with this with _no _whining."

"Is that another _condition _of letting me loose from Megaton?" She grumped, cringing when he pinched the skin between her shoulder blades with his tweezers. "_Ye-__**OW!**_"

"My apologies," She could hear the smugness in his voice. "_Hand slipped."_

"_That _won't be a problem for you when you have _no_ hands if you pinch me again!" She warned.

Dogmeat lifted his head lazily from his spot in the corner of the hotel room and gave an obnoxious yawn at the two, stretching out his limbs before dropping back to the floor to sleep.

"I didn't know a dog could sleep so much…" Aimee murmured as she stared into her lap- her legs crossed in front of her with her arms draped over her knees. Charon sat behind her, his legs spread so they rested on either side of her with one dangling off the edge of the bed as he worked on her injury. The stitches had definitely opened up, revealing a small gape of a hole about the size of a nickel (it used to be a bit bigger than a quarter) a little above her shoulder blade. One fragment had _completely _pierced through her, but with all the Stimpaks she had been using the hole on the front of her body closed up. The one on the back of her shoulder was taking longer to heal because that was where most of the damage was from the remaining fragments. Dried blood dripped around the hole and down to her mid-back, staining her tank top. He had to remove the ripped stitching, clean her up, and then stitch her up again. He pulled back her sleeve further down her shoulder so he had a window to work from with her injury.

"The things you get yourself into…" He grumbled to himself, using the tweezers to pull the knots of stitching from her skin. The thread resisted, tugging the skin up with it before sliding out effortlessly, letting the skin fall back into place.

"Hey now- _you _were the one who told me it would be a good idea if I went down there and helped them!" She argued before huffing with irritation to herself. Her hands slipped into the triangle that her crossed legs formed.

"Are you blaming me for your injuries?" He asked, having to cut a string that was still pulled taut over the gaping hole she had before pulling it out slowly and carefully.

"No, but whenever _you_ talk about it you make it sound like it's _my _fault." She folded her arms over her chest, back hunched towards him.

"Have I done that?" Charon replied seriously, grabbing for the bottle of purified water he had along with a rag. He wet the rag, lightly caressing away the dried blood around the wound so he could get a better look at any little bits of string he missed.

"Sometimes- _yes._" Aimee deadpanned. "You almost done?"

"…Glowworm I haven't even finished removing your old stitching yet," He answered as he pulled the last few frays of string from her skin. "Learn to be patient."

"_**You **__learn to be patient…_" She mumbled under her breath childishly, and the room fell silent. That was until she brought up her Pip-Boy and began fiddling with it, switching through the map interface and the time out of boredom. "How much longer?"

"Another few minutes… Ten, maybe. I don't know. Stitching you up again is going to hurt more than when I removed them, just so you're aware. Do you want the Med-X now?"

"Women have given birth for thousands of years without any sort of painkiller," She looked to him with a smile. "I think I can handle a needle and some string."

"…If you insist," He sighed, continuing to clean around the wound and looked at how it dripped down her back, staining her top and skin dark crimson. "Take your shirt off."

"Wha- _What?_" She snapped her head over her shoulder to look at him, a hot red blush growing across her nose and cheeks. "What… What _for?_" She muttered.

"I need to clean you up. Plus, it'll be easier for me to stitch you when there's nothing in my way. I keep having to pull the sleeve down," He explained. "Just take off your shirt."

The demand was met back by her blush turning an even darker shade of red, and she looked back forward. Slowly her good arm came to the hem of her shirt and she pulled up on it, pulling her arm back through the sleeve so she could pull the article over her head. She was having some difficulty doing that, though, because it hurt to move her arm.

"Char-bear," She called, looking back at him pleadingly. He sighed with irritation and gingerly pulled it down her arm without disturbing the limb. "Thanks." She murmured as she took the shirt and crumpled it against her chest to hide her bra and breasts. It wasn't like he could _see _them from over her shoulder and with how she was hunched over, but even _if_ he could see her bra it wasn't like he would go out of his way to make it known that he was staring… Not like he _would _stare in the first place…

He ran the cold and wet cloth down her back, causing a gasp of surprise to hitch in her throat and she shivered as her porcelain skin began to prickle with goose bumps.

"You alright?" Charon leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"Ye- Yeah…" Aimee nodded stiffly, holding the cloth tighter to her breasts. "Just cold, is all…"

"I'll try to make this as quick as possible," He answered as he entangled his fingers under the black strap of her bra, trailing it down her arm to rest against her bicep so he could continue to clean her shoulder. He kept his hand on her arm over the strap, and she started to breathe raggedly, heart thumping in her chest and he could feel it reverberate back to him through her skin and flesh.

"Glowworm, are you _honestly_ alright?" He asked, leaning forward to look at her face over her shoulder. Her body was getting really warm, even though it looked like all the heat she could have contained had drained into the blush in her face.

"I-… For some reason, this just reminds me of Dukov… And what he tried to do to me…" She answered meekly, almost in a tone that made it seem like she was only _mildly_ aware of what she was saying.

"…I _knew _I should have killed that fucking bastard when I had the _chance,_" He hissed between clenched teeth, averting his glare to the wall. "Now you keep thinking about what would have happened if I hadn't come for you, _aren't_ you?"

"We- Well, not really… I knew what he wanted, I knew what would have happened if you didn't come. It's not exactly _rocket science,_" She admitted innocently, looking away. "Bu- But… I guess because I knew what he wanted, it… It _didn't_ scare me…"

"What do you mean?" His eyes snapped back to her, and he watched her chew on her lower lip ashamedly as a thought came to his mind. "Ai- Aimee… Did you-?... Did you _want _him to do that?"

"I-… I don't know…" She dropped her head so she was staring into her lap. "I ju- just wanted to _know…_ What it _felt_ like," She finally looked up at him, face still cherry red and she continued chewing on her lip. "I wanted to know what it felt like being touched, and kissed and… I wanted to know what _sex _felt like…"

Charon tried to refrain from letting his eyes widen in disbelief at what his employer said. He tried to keep his mouth from dropping open in shock, or slap his hand to his forehead in irritation that some drunken _bastard_ of a Russian was making his sweet employer think about having _sex_.

"…Oh." He finally answered her awkwardly.

"You- You've had sex before…_ Right?_" She asked in a strained voice, and _now _the ghoul couldn't help but let his eyes widen in horror at what she was asking. She was asking _him_ about _sex?_ A pretty and young _smoothskin _was asking an old and irritable _ghoul_ about _sex?_ Sure, he had sex before. He had a lot of dames before the Great War- but he didn't remember a lick of_ any_ of them… No one other than Rose. If he thought about it now, Aimee's experience with sex and his experience with sex were pretty much neck-to-neck with each other. She never had sex before, and he hadn't had sex since before the war- and that was over 200 _fucking _years ago… It was technically the same thing, right?

…He had absolutely _no _idea why he was thinking about this...

"Ch- Charon?"

"Yes, I've had sex before." Charon finally admitted, staring back at her with sharp eyes but an emotionless gaze. He had the sudden feeling that if he had any skin, he'd be blushing just as much as she was right about now, but apparently his face thought that scowling awkwardly was the next best thing.

"What-… What is it like? What's _sex_ like?"

"I'm not the one you should ask." He snapped quietly, gesturing for her to turn her head back around so he could work on her stitching. He plucked up his needle and began to string it.

"But I _am_ asking you," Aimee pointed out as she brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them so they kept her crumpled up shirt in place for her effortlessly. "Who _else_ am I supposed to ask?"

"Someone you care about."

"But I _do_ care about you…"

"I mean someone you trust, Aimee."

"Charon I _do _trust you. Remember?"

The ghoul was _certainly_ running out of excuses…

"Well that's a _different_ kind of trust. That's employer-employee trust. This is trust on a level you can only have with another person romantically. You need to ask someone that you _love _Aimee," He responded edgily, beginning to sew up the small nickel-sized wound.

"…But I _do_ love you." She spoke as she winced from the needle digging into her flesh, pulling across the wound to dig in again and then the two slits of skin would be pulled back together.

Her statement almost made his hand jerk, so he stopped the needle from diving back into her skin as his eyes slowly panned up to her face. She was looking back at him over her shoulder, and he wished she'd stop gazing at him with those prized grey eyes- looking at him as if he were still handsome… And _human._ It made him feel like he sorely missed being human… Hell, any _sane _ghoul would wish they were human again, but if he spent his centuries of ghoulish existence wishing he were human again… Well, to put it simply he probably wouldn't have been with Aimee right now.

But given the topic of conversation, he sort of wished he bit that self-delivered bullet…

"I care about you because you're my friend- you mean a great deal to me, Charon… I trust you because you've saved me a countless amount of times, you always listen to me and-… and you always find the right words to say that will make me feel better… I trust you because you know who I am like _no one else _does. And I-… I love you _because _you mean a great deal to me, and I love you _because _you know me like no one else _ever _will…"

"Aimee, sex should be between two people involved romantically. It's a unique bond two people share, so I'm not the one to ask about this sort of thing."

"And why not, Charon? Why _can't _I ask you about stuff like this? You say it's a unique bond between people in love but what about prostitutes? You pay them to have sex with you, right?"

"You can't ask me about this because I'm a _ghoul,_ Aimee." He shot back, looking up at her when his stitching work was half way through. "And sometimes men just go for too long without that bond with another that they try to get it by any means necessary."

"Well, I'm a smoothskin," She smiled at him sheepishly. "What difference does it make who you are when it comes to this? Love is love… isn't it?"

Charon darted his eyes back down to his stitching. Why did she have to counteract everything he said with a plausible answer?

"And if I love and care about a ghoul, to hell with everyone else!"

He continued stitching her up, trying to ignore her words.

"Which is why I-…" She sighed, trying to find the words. "Charon… I want to know what sex is like, and I want to know what it's like with _you._"

His hand suddenly jerked back and he pricked his finger, watching as a bright red jewel bubbled to the surface of his ruined skin. Aimee continued on as he stared down at the blood on his finger, oblivious to the fact that he poked himself with his own needle.

"I k- know it's kinda sudden… But I want my first time to be with someone I trust. Charon, I trust you with my _life_- I trust you with so much I don't think you even _realize _how far my trust goes with you!..." She looked back forward, burying her chin into her knees. "But when Dukov had me pinned against that railing, I-… I didn't fight back… I didn't shove him off or cry for help. I was frozen- I didn't know _what _the hell I was doing… But I thought about it more and more when we were walking to Rivet City… And I came to the conclusion that I froze up because I- I _wanted _him to touch me. I wanted him to kiss me and- and do _other _things… But that was _solely _because I wanted to know what it felt like- and I think I also froze up because at the same time, I realized that I _did _want to know what sex was like, but I didn't want to find that out with _him._ I wanted to know what it was like with someone else… Someone who I can trust to take my virginity and not just flat out _leave _me afterward."

He tensed up. This wasn't right- this was straight up _wrong _nine ways to Sunday!

"…But why me?" Charon muttered, still staring down at his finger. "I'm a fucking _ghoul_, Aimee. Do you even know what the hell you're _asking_ me?"

"I know- I know it's a lot to put on you! But weren't you _listening _to me?" She asked, turning her chin to her shoulder to look back at him. "I'm asking _you_ to show me what it's like because I care about you, I trust you, and I-… I _love _you. Sure, I have other people I care about- and yes, there are other people I trust and love… But not like how I care, trust, and love _you_, Charon… They will _never _receive the level I feel for you from me. _Never._"

"Well why can't you find someone _else _to show you what… _**It **_is like? Go make more friends or something."

"But I-… I just don't see it like that…" She shook her head. "I don't want to make friends just to try and have _sex _with them, Charon…"

He remained silent, finally removing his eyes from his pricked finger to look back at her. He saw something in her eyes- _pure _innocence that he hadn't seen in a long time. She was chewing on her bottom lip nervously, eyes watering slightly, and the deep red blush was still on her cheeks. His heart was hammering in his chest at an alarming rate- he had never been so… Well, he hadn`t been caught off guard like this in a _long _time, but he realized Aimee was _great _at making him surprised- and because of her it seemed to be quickly turning into a national sport or something…

"I don't want you to feel like I'm _forcing _you to do this..." Aimee finally stated, turning back forward. Charon finally got his brain functioning long enough to finish stitching her up. "You can feel free to say no if you don't want to do this."

"_You can feel free to say no,"_

_That's _where the problem was, Charon suddenly realized… He didn't know if he _wanted _to say "no"- but he felt mortified about saying "yes," and that was where he froze up. _That _was where he wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out. _That _was where he ended up feeling so small when he was probably one of the biggest things in the Wasteland (under the size of a Super Mutant, of course).

To keep his hands occupied, Charon grabbed the medical supplies satchel they carried around and opened it, quickly cleaning off the tweezers and needle and put them back into the pockets. He then opened a bigger pocket on the front and removed a Stimpak. He rolled the satchel back up and moved back to Aimee, uncapping the Stimpak to watch it fly over her shoulder and land in front of her due to his unsteady hands. He paused, staring at it before slithering his hand over to retrieve it. She picked it up and handed it to him, but not before noticing the blood dribbling down on his finger.

"Charon, you're bleeding…" She murmured as he pulled his hand back over her shoulder and pushed the needle of the Stimpak through her stitching and into the slit of her wound, injecting everything into it. He could see the skin knit together and the hole get smaller so it was about the size of a dime now, if not a bit smaller, and it didn't look as ragged as before. It looked a whole lot more clean, and didn`t look as worrisome for him. He bandaged over it with a small patch of gauze and medical tape.

"Give me your hand-" She asked him. "Your bleeding one."

Hesitantly, he guided his hand over his shoulder to her. She turned around slightly, one knee to her chest to keep her shirt in place over her breasts with the other sprawled over the edge of the bed alongside his own legs. She swallowed hard out of nervousness as he took his hand and guided it to her mouth, wrapping her lips around it to lightly suck.

"Ai- _Aimee-_" He rasped almost pleadingly- wanting to look away but _couldn't, _wanting to pull away but _wouldn't_- so he continued to watch as she applied pressure to the fingertip by sucking on it. _That_ was when any and _all _of his emotions shut off, and he just watched her like a lifeless and mangled life-sized doll as she toyed with the digit in her mouth… Well, not exactly _lifeless,_ per say. All the life he had in his being seemed to have drained into one part of his body- and that was at the fork in his pants. After a few moments, she pulled back her mouth to see if it had stopped bleeding.

"Did you hurt yourself sewing me up? Oh well. I think it stopped bleeding." Aimee asked, looking up at him with those wide, innocent grey eyes and gave a small smile, her lips a hair's width away from his wet finger. "Look, I _really _don't want you to do this if _you_ don't want to… I guess it puts a lot more pressure on you because I'm a virgin…"

With the way she was using her tongue on his finger, he could have fucking begged to _differ_ her being a virgin!

So she _wasn`t _lying or exaggerating when she said she was aware of what men wanted…

...Damnit all...

"I am ordered to do as you say." He answered quietly- kicking himself for taking that route in this situation.

Her brows crinkled together between her eyes. "Damnit Charon, are you _really _going to do this to me?"

"And are you _really_ asking me to have sex with you?" He shot back acidly. "You _know _how it works, Aimee. You knew when you bought my contract and you've known for several months now while we`ve traveled together."

"…Then I order you to _only _have sex with me if _you_ want to." He watched as the blush deepened on her innocent little face as if she had just said the dirtiest, most _naughty _thing anyone could have ever said. She was certainly blushing a lot more than usual, but he supposed that it was due to the nature of their conversation.

…_Fuck._

Charon didn't know how to reply to what she said, mostly because he didn't know _what _he wanted. His brain was failing him, so any thought process for repercussions of having sex with his employer immediately went flying out the window. He just- he just didn't feel _anything_ about it. He was a blank, clean palette. No blue for despair or anxiety, no red for anger at what she was asking… No pink or yellow for happiness in _wanting _to have sex with her… Just grey, grey, and- oh, look at that! Even _more _grey.

Aimee took his silence as not wanting to go through with her request of sex- ultimately _not _wanting to have sex with her- and she sighed dejectedly, giving him back his hand and she slid back on the bed to settle against him for support with one of his legs on either side of her. Her head lolled back under his neck and she curled up her knees to her chest once again, wrapping her arms around them.

"I knew it was a long shot… But I respect your decision." She murmured honestly against his throat, not even noticing how hard he swallowed or the way the muscle in his neck twitched when he was nervous or worried. "I _really_ do, Charon… I guess it was just a bad ide-"

His hands came up, startling her to the point that she actually _stopped _talking as he unwrapped her arms from around her knees, dropping them to the bed so they rested against the sheets on either side of his outer thighs. His hand dove back to her knees, spreading them open.

"Cha- _Charon?_" She squeaked, turning to look back at him over her shoulder but stopped when his hand began to trail down her stomach, making a beeline for the hem of her pants and her eyes followed _that _instead. "_What are you-?"_

"_Following orders."_ He whispered in her ear huskily, causing her eyes to widen as a welcomed tingle traveled down her spine while his hand continued to travel down her body. She watched his fingers dance with the button on her pants, causing it to come undone before sliding down the zipper at an _agonizingly slow _pace.

"Ch- _Char-_" His name could barely register on her lips as she clenched her eyes tightly shut when his fingers traveled into her pants and over her panties, barely grazing her through the thin cloth that was beginning to dampen. She fisted the bed sheets by his thighs, her breaths coming to her quick and shallow as she twisted her head to the side so it rested against his shoulder instead of under his chin. He rubbed over her covered slit with his middle finger, trailing the tip up and down slowly and it caused her knees to tremble. They began to close but he forced them back open with his free hand. His finger trailed back up her entrance once her panties were soaked through and through with her juices, and he circled his finger around the bundle of nerves that was her clit- the friction of his finger on the sensitive nub through the wet fabric was too _much_, and she began to moan with her head rocking back onto his shoulder, back arching up from him.

Charon trailed his hand away from the bundle of nerves to the waistband of her underwear, giving her time to recover. She was breathing so hard, it was a miracle she hadn't passed out yet. She finally opened one of her eyes cautiously, looking down at his hand still in her pants and it seemed that realization had finally donned on her.

Charon had his hand in her pants.

And she was willing.

Not only was she _willing,_ but she was _enjoying _it!

He slipped his fingertips into the waistband of her underwear, causing her to gasp quietly at the feeling of his rough and calloused skin so close to the softest part of her body. They trailed down, over the small patch of pubic hair that covered her sex and she closed her eyes tightly as his finger began to probe between her soaking wet lips.

"O- Oh _God!..._ _Oh God…_" She murmured, twisting her head this way and that before bringing one of her hands up to her mouth, using the joints of her first finger as a bit to stifle the pleasured noises she was making. He used his pointer and ring finger to spread open her nether lips with his middle finger gently sliding up and down her slick sex- barely touching her, _teasing her-_ before he dipped the tip of his digit inside her just enough for her to feel it before pulling back out to continue rubbing her. A strange force began to pool at the bottom of her stomach, like a hefty weight, and it suddenly shot up into her chest when his middle finger finally slid into her up to his knuckle, hooking inside her. She arched up from him, legs snapping closed as she curled into his extended arm over her shoulder, freely moaning without her finger's joint in her mouth to stifle them.

Charon growled into her ear as if he had gone feral, using his free hand to again pry apart her knees but they wouldn't move.

"_**Open**__ for me._" He whispered his harsh demand in her ear and she swallowed hard, not being able to obey his request because the finger inside of her was too much- and all she could do was focus all of her thoughts on his probing digit. He growled again as he shifted his legs, tangling them around each of hers and used the strength in them to pull her legs apart. Because of the way they were intertwined, she couldn't move them to close them back up. She looked down in shock, her mouth opening and closing like a confused guppy as she watched his hand move back and forth in her pants, his palm rubbing against her clit as he fingered her. She gasped as the heavy weight that shot up into her chest simmered back down into the bottom of her stomach, feeling like a pot of water boiling over to slowly seep into the muscles of her thighs, making them twitch restlessly as if waiting for something intense to come.

"Cha- _Charon…_" She moaned loudly, tossing her head back against his shoulder and dropped her hands back to the bed to fist at the sheets, her shirt dropping from her chest into her lap, sprawling over where his hand was connected between her thighs as he continued to slowly finger her. "I- I feel so-… _strange…_ There's s- something _there…_ In my stomach, I- I _think_…" She muttered to the ceiling before anything intelligible she could have said was drowned out by incoherent moans, and Charon shifted his eyes to their corners to watch her, noting how his heart was beating erratically in his chest. His exhales came out long and heavy, but still inaudible to both of their ears. He realized what she was talking about- she was probably going to come soon, but because this was her _first _time being involved with something like… Like _this,_ she probably didn't know what an orgasm was or how it was supposed to make her feel.

And then the ghoul realized that _he _was the one giving her that very first orgasm. He was the first one to kiss her, he was the first one to touch her like this, and he would be the first one to _take _her as his…

He didn't know if he should have been upset or disappointed in himself when he realized that he, again, felt nothing towards the intimate thought. His only thought was to cater to her needs and bring her to that orgasm quickly so she knew what _real_ pleasure was. Without thinking, with his free hand he found her hand clutching the bed sheets and he placed his over hers- wrapping his fingers around her palm and she reciprocated the gesture, trying to find something real and alive to cling onto as her orgasm continued to build up and up inside of her.

No sooner had Charon slipped a second finger into her (which was a little difficult to do because she was so… _tight…_ and he was noticeably bigger than her, but he managed to get that second digit into her anyways) did she gasp in surprise as her orgasm overtook her in forceful wave after wave. Her back arched up from his body to the point that her head connected with his jaw, but neither minded because neither were hurt. Her legs, still tangled in his, spasmed and twitched and tried to close again but weren't able to. She came against his hand, juices flowing down his digits to soak through her panties and down her thighs, staining the hem of her shorts legs. She gave a heavy exhale as she fell back limp against him, trying to get her heart to return to a normal pace as she got her muscles to relax.

"Ch- Charon…" She murmured against the rugged skin on his neck, brushing her lips against it. "Th- _That _was…"

She wasn't able to finish her sentence as he untangled his legs from hers, pulled his hand from her pants and shoved her forward onto her stomach on the bed. She cried out as he hoisted himself to his knees behind her, grabbed her hips and pulled her back to his crotch so she was on her elbows and knees with her weight focused into her chest on the bed. Her eyes widened in horror as she looked over her shoulder and saw the blank look on his face as he yanked down her pants and underwear, both in one quick tug, and exposed herself _completely_ to his impassive gaze- trembling sex, twitching thighs, dripping with her juices...

"Wa- _Wait,_ Charon!" She exclaimed and he immediately stopped, his eyes slowly trailing down her spine, over her shoulder and into her wide eyes and blushing face. She was still breathing heavily, clutching the sheets in front of her with trembling hands. "I- I need some ti- time to _recover _from that, you- you know…" She croaked, trying to steady her breathing. "Whatever… _That _was…"

"...As you wish," He nodded, letting go of her hips and sat back on the bed, grabbing the slightly bloodied cloth he had used to clean her wound to clean her juices from his fingers and hand. She slowly sat up so she was on her side, body still trembling slightly as she tugged off her socks, throwing them to the floor carelessly and removed her pants and soaked panties without looking down at herself. She wasn`t going to pull them back up when they were soaking wet.

"Here," Charon held up the cloth to her. She nodded in thanks and took it, wiping down her thighs with shaky hands before cleaning her sex as best she could, still unwilling to look down at herself. She wasn't ashamed of what she had done with him by _any _means- she was honestly just too shy to look down at the mess she made of herself. She swallowed back the saliva that pooled into her mouth, lubricating the dry walls of her constricting throat as she handed him back the soiled cloth and their hands brushed against one another, causing her breath to hitch.

_Why does this feel so… __**Right?**_ She looked up into his eyes. _Isn't this supposed to normally scare people or something?..._

But when she looked up into his face and his eyes, she found nothing scary about him at all.

"What do you need?" He asked her, tossing the cloth carelessly onto the medical satchel.

"Wha- What do you mean?..." She inquired sheepishly.

"What do you want me to do to you?" He finally looked back at her, eyes as sharp and as cold as glass but they didn't look… Menacing. They looked dimly warm, but at the same time dead- like he couldn't completely process what they were about to do.

"O- Oh!" Aimee blinked, the afterglow of her orgasm still brazen on her face and she looked away, trying to think of something that she wanted… Coming to the conclusion that she _didn't_ want anything from him. She wanted him to enjoy himself, too- she didn't want this to be awkward (even though it most likely would be with her being inexperienced and him having experience that he probably hadn't exercised in a long while), but she wanted it to be memorable. She came to the conclusion that there wasn't any physical action that she wanted in particular, but one thing _did _come to mind… Whenever she kissed him or hugged him or did anything affectionately, he didn't react to it in any way, shape, or form. She wanted him to _react_- push away, reciprocate, _whatever._ She wanted him to _feel_ and wanted him to feel like he _was _good enough.

"I-… I want you to love me."


	44. CHP 44: Ghouls Come Out To Play PART 2

**A/N: HEY GUYS! ****I decided to just go ahead and post the second part of the chapter "Ghouls Come Out To Play" 'cause you guys wanted to see Aimee and Charon relieve the "sexual tension" as some of my readers put it... I WASN'T AWARE THAT I WROTE THIS STORY WITH SEXUAL TENSION INVOLVED! Yay me? o_o"**

**Anyhow, as another warning for my readers, this chapter contains rated XXX adult content that is WORSE than what was featured in part one of this two-part chapter! If you do not like rated XXX content, do NOT read. I don't write "smut" (as some people on this site call it), but I _do _write love-making scenes because I see sex as a natural and beautiful act that two people share and I wish not to exploit in any way that would upset anyone or feed the rabid fangirls who think Charon should get some sweet smoothskin ass (some are tasteful- and some are just... holy shit -fans at face-). But ****HONESTLY? I don't think having sex with a ghoul would be as hot or as glamorous as we ghoul fangirls write it out to be- ghouls are DECOMPOSING. WALKING CORPSES. NECROPHILIA. So they probably smell terrible and have... _important _stuff fallin' off. I am not at ALL a bigot about ghoul love (most of my fanfics have CHARON in them, duh D:), but I occasionally have giggle-fits about ghoul junk falling off in the midst of steamy passionate sex with some hot, bangable LW xD (THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN IN THIS CHAPTER, I SWEAR D: But I'm sure someone has written a story like that before... (it's by ArticulateZ I believe- funny read. Check it out xD))**

**...I'm surprised that his junk hasn't fallen off 'cause of all the OTHER chicks he has smexed up on this site D: ROFL. xD (I bet Aimee would be so heartbroken if she found that out, neh? *gets idea for a story* O_O MUST. WRITE. JUST. CAUSE! -swats at plotbunny- DON'T BITE MY ASS, PLOTBUNNY D; I JUST GOT ALL THE OTHER ONES OFF! SHOO! -keeps swatting at it- SHOO!)**

**ONE MORE THING BEFORE YOU START READING! The winner of the poll that I had on my profile not too long ago is now posted as of about an hour ago. It is called Back in the Black Bayou! Please read and review, guys! I love you ALL for voting (thanks by the way) and I love you ALL for helping me make this story so amazing! Almost a year(HOLY SHITBALLS O_O) and 105 reviews (last time I checked) later... Whoa. I actually only expected to get 20-something reviews on this story at the most, but that was back when I thought that this story was only going to be, like, 10 chapters xD You guys REALLY have spurred me on to make this amazing story, and I'm sorry if it's a really long flashback- and if it's TOO long for your liking D:**

**...I make it up with GHOUL SMEX! ;D**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"I-… I want you to love me." Aimee murmured, and she saw a pang of what looked like panic in his eyes. She gave a wry smile. "I don't mean like <em>that,<em> Charon… I want you to- I want you to treat me as if I were your lover… I want you to do things to me as if you loved me."

Charon's thin, cracked lips pursed together as he got up from the bed, to his feet, and held out a hand to her. She looked at it questioningly before slipping hers into his. He helped her to her knees on the bed before laying her down against the pillows amongst the disarrayed sheets and climbed on top of her, knees on either side of her thighs, hands pinned above her shoulders on the pillows and he stared straight down into her eyes. His muscled body just _radiated _heat, and she felt like she was lying under a warm heater or in a radiation pocket.

"I can do that…" He murmured, cupping her cheek in one hand, caressing the blushing, _burning_ flesh with a soft, talented thumb. "I can do that for you, Aimee…"

"Cha- _Charon…_" She murmured with wide eyes of pure astonishment as the dimly warm but ultimately _dead _look faded from his eyes and his face seemed to light up. The corners of his mouth turned up into a content but small smile as he lowered his face to hers, pressing their foreheads together, still caressing her cheek with his thumb as he lowered his mouth upon hers, capturing her lips with his own gently. She could have _sworn _that a crackle of lightning struck their hotel room at that moment.

_So… This is what it's like to be kissed by Charon… It's __**nice… So nice…**_

Aimee's grey eyes widened as her mind pretty much stopped working and fizzed out. Soft noises came from his lips, melting into hers, _molding _against hers as if they were meant to be there at all times- like two lonely pieces coming together to form a beautiful and complete puzzle. Her hand came up to the his hand on her cheek and her fingers encircled it as she closed her eyes, pressing her lips back into his. After a few moments, they pulled back from one another- Aimee more out of breath than Charon and the small smile was still on his lips as he lowered his head to her neck. His lips connected with her skin lightly, pressing gentle kisses in a dotted trail to her collar bone when his tongue flicked out, tracing the inner shape of the cratered form of the bone. She closed her eyes, gripping his shoulders and realized that when his armor squeaked under her grip, he was still… Well, he was still _dressed _while she lay under him naked from the waist down. All that kept her from being _completely _naked from him was the fact that she was still wearing her ragged black bra.

"_You look beautiful like this- Aimee…_" He whispered in her ear, lips kissing below the lobe to trail along her jaw line, a single kiss on her chin, and then captivated her mouth again.

"A- And you're still dr- dressed…" She pointed out breathlessly when they pulled back for air. She tugged at the buckles and clasps on his armor with trembling hands, and he began to chuckle, caging her small hands in his big ones.

"You can barely even grab it… Here, let me do it." He offered, brushing her hands off to begin undoing the clasps. She then tugged his hands off defiantly and continued to try and do it herself.

"I can _do _it…" She pouted, and this time he made no move to stop her as she slowly worked her way on the straps and buckles of his armor top with that small smile still on his face. After several minutes of work, the armor top finally came loose and she removed it from him, letting it drop to the floor with a _thump_. Dogmeat picked up his head with a small huff of a noise before yawning, and returned to sleeping, not at all interested in the activity the two were immersing themselves in.

"Can you take my shirt off too? Or are you going to have trouble with that as well?" He teased her.

She snapped her eyes up to him. "Shut up or I'll rip it…" She grumbled as she pulled it up over his head, staring with her lips parting in awe at his torso. She had only seen it once before- the time when they had gone to Minefield for Moira and he was injured- and just _looking _at it made something writhe with pleasant anticipation inside her. With a hard swallow, she placed her trembling hands against his muscled chest and chiseled abdomen, grazing them over all the exposed muscle and flesh, whatever patches of leathery skin remained, and winced in surprise when her fingers brushed over a pulsing vein or sinew or two. His body was burning _up-_ as if his veins flowed with the heat of the merciless sun and not the blood of a man. Aimee faintly recalled Dr. Barrows back in Underworld saying that because ghouls didn't have any skin to regulate essential heat, their body temperatures were the equivalent to that of a sickly smoothskin to make up for it.

"Does my appearance bother you?" Charon asked quietly, looking down at her roaming hands. "If it does, I can put my shirt back on… Make it a bit more bearable."

"…No. Don't put your shirt back on," She ran her hands from his chest up to his neck, cupping his jaw in her hands and she smiled up at him. "I _like_ looking at you."

"Why?"

"Because you're different… When everyone else out there is the same… _Terrible,_" She ran her hands back down to his neck. "_Ugly on the inside,_" then to his shoulders, _"Selfish…"_ then they rested against his chest, feeling everything pulse and tighten and heat and move under her soft hands. "_You _are different from them, and that's why I trust you and care about you and love you."

"Because I'm ugly on the outside and not on the inside?" He joked, but she looked hurt.

"No, Charon…" She placed her hand on his cheek. "_Because you look beautiful to me…_"

His eyes widened slightly at her words and the small smile on his face disappeared, turning into a thoughtful parting of his cracked lips. "_Aimee…_" He breathed unevenly.

She smiled up at him, pushing herself up on her elbows to kiss him gently on the lips. "I know that we're only doing this because I want to know what sex is like… And all this cutesy stuff is just- well, just to make it more realistic… Even though it isn't really _necessary-_"

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Huh?" Aimee looked up into his eyes, finding that he was asking a serious question- so he was looking for a serious answer.

"Did you mean everything you just said?" He clarified.

"Well… Of _course _I did, Charon. Why would I say anything I didn't mean?"

"…I don't _know…_" He murmured, leaning down to kiss her briefly. Then pulled back. "This is _dangerous…_"

"And here I thought _dangerous_ was your middle name," She cracked with a small smile, feeling her stomach and chest flutter as he smiled back at her and began kissing down her chin, the hallow of her smooth throat, her collarbone with his hands slipping down her body as he moved lower and lower. He finally sat back on his haunches, looking as if he were straddling her.

"Could you sit up?" He asked.

"Su- Sure thing…" She nodded dumbly, sitting up so her weight was in her hands against the bed behind her and he wrapped his arms around her torso. He brought his lips to her forehead as he undid the clasp on her bra and she gasped as air hit her completely exposed body while he threw the ragged article of clothing to the floor with his armor top. She fell back on the bed, a hand clamped down on each of her soft breasts, and gazed back up at him with an innocent and timid blush coming to her cheeks and across the slope her nose. His smile deepened- not looking lustful or filled with desire… But of a joyous, almost humbly triumphant smile. Like he had fought a difficult war for far too long, and he saw that the ending was coming closer and it was working in his favor.

"Move your hands?" He asked nicely.

"N- No…" She murmured, looking away shyly. Her legs clenched together, also hiding her sex from him. It was different when he was fingering her- you couldn't _see _anything. But boy oh boy, could you see everything _now._

"Aimee…" He whispered, leaning down to kiss her neck and she gasped, closing her eyes as he placed his hands over hers on top of her breasts. "_Please?... _You don't have to hide. _You're beautiful to me, too, Aimee..._"

The words he spoke and the tone his voice took on struck a chord within her, and she hesitantly removed her hands from her breasts. He pushed himself up from her to look down at her practically _flawless_ body beneath him- small and as fragile as glass compared to his heavy and burly body, skin creamy and smooth like porcelain compared to his rotted and stripped skin, flushed in a radiant glow while his… Well, his body _wasn't._ He looked to his hands, gently cupping her breasts in his palms and her head rolled to the side on her pillow as she closed her eyes, moaning quietly but he could still hear the blissful tune it carried. His fingertips toyed with her nipples, brushed pink in contrast to her porcelain skin. He rolled one between two of his fingers, his pointer and thumb, as he continued kissing down her collar bone to her chest, trailing his lips down between her soft mounds to her stomach. He stopped at her naval and licked his lips, kissing the dip in the center of her stomach before tracing the rim of her naval with his tongue. She opened her eyes a crack to look down at him, heart pounding, breath coming out in unsteady pants as she watched him.

"Open your legs for me…ˮ He asked more than demanded, his whispering words trailing over her stomach like his hot breath.

"Wha- What are you going to _do?..._" She murmured, but complied with his request and opened her legs wide enough for him to settle between them. Her eyes widened as he lowered himself on the bed, his head dropping between her legs and he kissed the skin on her inner thigh. Her legs began to tremble with anticipation when she realized what he was probably about to do, but she didn't know if she was all that comfortable with it.

"Ch- Charon…" Aimee pleaded, closing her eyes and twisting her face away when he looked at her over the rise of her breasts and she couldn't look back into the clueless look he gave her. It was actually kinda-… Kinda _cute._ "Do- Don't do what I _think_ you're about to do…"

"What do _you_ think I'm going to do?" He asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice. When she opened her eyes, the smile was surely there on his lips.

"U- Use your tongue on me…" She blushed. There were _other _descriptions she could have used, but decided to go for the vaguest one she could muster that still got straight to the point. "I… I don't know if I'm ready for-… for _that._"

He nodded in understanding, getting to his hands and knees and crawled back up her. He kissed her on the forehead. "Of course. What would you like for me to do?"

Aimee looked into his face, eyes tracing over every part of it as she dedicated that smile and the way his eyes lit up in her memory and she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning up to his lips. He met her halfway, each pair of lips greeting each other happily as his suddenly parted, running his hot tongue across hers. He was so hot… _Too hot…_ _Damn that **"I can't circulate my own body heat so I'm gonna blow up the radiation like an atom bomb!"** thing ghouls have…_ Aimee thought, although it wasn't a complaint by _any _means. A thin sheen of sweat was already collecting to her skin, making it glisten from his heated body hovering over hers.

Charon pulled back from the kiss and studied her face for any sort of reluctance or doubt that she could go through with what she asked.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Well don't ask me that _now_ or I'll chicken out!" She exclaimed, suddenly _mortified._

"Sorry," He snickered like a mischievous little schoolboy. "But _are_ you?"

She nodded. "I- I think so… No, I _know_ I am." She sounded sure of herself, and she offered him a reassuring smile. "What about you?"

His smile turned kind and warm. "I'm just waiting on you."

"Jerk,"

"Oblivious."

"_Rude!_"

"_Am I?_" He chuckled against her neck, lightly planting a kiss there that made her breath quicken. "I just want to be sure that you're okay with this, Aimee- and that it wasn't a spur of the moment thing for you."

"I'm going through with this…" She murmured, wrapping her arms around his searing hot body and she continued to give off thin sheets of glistening sweat that caused her bangs to stick to her forehead. "I'm _not_ chickening out." She finalized

Charon gave a satisfied smile against her neck, sitting back to stare down at her. "Fine by me."

He got up and sat on the edge of the bed, yanking off his socks to throw them next to her pile of clothes on the floor and got to his feet, unbuckling the clasp of his pants but stopped once realizing Aimee may have wanted to remove that too. He looked to her questioningly.

"Want to take this off me, too?"

Aimee blinked at his hands on his pants, her cheeks turned bright red and she quickly shook her head. He continued on with his task and she slowly sat up to watch him finish undressing himself. His pants pooled around his ankles and he stepped out of them as he turned to her, watching as her face turned pale while her wide eyes lowered to his southern region.

"You-… Don't wear underwear?" Was all that managed to crawl past her lips.

He smirked. "Not really. Too-… _constricting._"

She gave a small gasp and looked away.

"I'm not exactly the best candidate to give someone a good time." He stated the obvious. "You sure you still want to do this?"

"We- Well, I was sure about doing this before I saw-… _that…_" She kept her eyes firmly away as the blush seeped back into her face.

"...If it bothers you, I'll put my pants back on." He assured her, honestly feeling a little hurt but was understanding of why she was probably disgusted by him.

"N- No! It's not that!" She snapped her wide, panicked eyes back to him. "Oh God, no, I didn't mean it like that, Charon! _I swear!_" She got to her knees and crawled across the bed, hair brushing her shoulders and her breasts bouncing as she moved, stopping in front of him on the edge and cupped his face in her hands. "I- I meant… Well…" She swallowed, looking down at his hardened member. "…It's scary."

Charon chuckled quietly, and Aimee could hear it rasp in his chest. It was a glorious sound. "How so?"

"It's just really… _Big._" She admitted, biting down on her lower lip as if punishing herself for talking dirty- which she didn't, really, but in her mind it was pretty much dirty talk. "And if you haven't noticed, I'm like a munchkin compared to you... I'm scared it's going to hurt…"

The ghoul actually didn't even _consider _that. He forgot that one aspect of having sex with a virgin was that it would most likely hurt her. It was rare when they didn't feel the pain, but the fact that Aimee was so _small _compared to him… He began getting nervous and scared as well.

"Do you-… Wish to stop here?" He asked quietly, finding that he'd be disappointed if she said yes and began dressing herself because he _knew _it would be awkward afterward and they'd most likely never attempt to try it again.

And he honestly didn't know why he had a problem with that, if that were to be the outcome of the situation.

"No," Aimee shook her head and sat back on the bed with her arms propped up behind her and her knees crooked up, hiding her sex from his view. She looked quite casual, even though she was sitting _naked _in front of him. "We… We keep going. If we stop now, I-… I might not get the courage to do this again." She confirmed his thoughts.

Charon nodded in compliance as he got back onto the bed, hovering over her as he gently laid her back to the pillows. He kissed all over her face- cheeks, nose, chin, over her eyelids, her forehead… And finally landed his lips on hers as he spread her legs and settled between them, holding her hips with the tip of his length brushing against her inner thigh, catching her by surprise so she practically jumped three feet in the air.

"I'm not going to lie… This is going to hurt, Aimee." He admitted to her, but she had that blunt look on her face that said "_tell me something I __**don't **__know."_ "Do you want me to take it slow or just get it over with?"

"I- I guess there's no way around the pain…" She shrugged, cupping the crook of his jaw in her small hand. "Just… Make it quick. But try not to be _too_ forceful..."

He gave a small smile of comfort as he aligned himself with her sex, still gripping her hips as he hovered over her.

"Are you ready?" He asked, his voice barely above a murmur and she gave a tense nod, gripping the bed sheets at her sides to prepare herself.

"Ju- Just _do_ it, Charon…" She sighed in an airy exhale, almost sounding desperate but at the same time hesitant.

Charon complied with her request as he held his breath and slowly pressed the tip of his hardened member to her tight entrance and she _immediately _tensed up, already fisting the bed sheets to the point where her knuckles turned bone-white. He had a moment's thought of pulling away and saying it was a bad idea and actually _ordering_ her to get dressed, but he was already sliding his tip into her slowly (_fuck she's too damn __**tight **__around me) _and ultimately decided that he would stop when _she _said it was time to stop. After all, when he thought about it, he was really only there to accompany her on the ride she wanted to take.

"Oh- _Ngh!_" She cried out, throwing her head back as her body arched up off the bed with her legs trembling. "Cha- _ron…_ It- It _hurts!_"

"I know… I _know-_ I'm sorry," He apologized, leaning over to kiss her. "It'll stop hurting after a little bit…"

"Pr- _Promise?..._"

"That's something I can't really promise you, Aimee… It differs from person to person, and you're not exactly a _spacious fit…_" He grumbled, although he didn't know why he was complaining. She was so tight and wet and sweet and _fuck _if she looked up at him with those wide, innocent grey eyes of hers he might just ignore her wellbeing and fuck her senseless… It was a miracle he had this much control over himself when he hadn't indulged himself in sex since the Great War. He was surprised he didn't come in his pants right then and _there _when she asked him to have sex with her!

"I- I'm sorry… For being so small…" She muttered under her breath dejectedly, looking away from him.

"No." Charon replied sternly and shook his head, planting a long kiss on her lips and then placed his forehead to hers. "You are _perfect _the way you are…" He brushed her cheek with his thumb, noting how soft and supple and _smooth _her skin was to his leathery and rough and _imperfect _skin.

_Perfect just the way you are… _His mind repeated tauntingly.

"I- I think you can move now…" She moved her hips, testing out how much movement she was allowed but all it did was make him groan with want, and he dropped his head to her neck. "It doesn't hurt so much anymore…"

"I- It will when I'm all the way _inside _you…" He explained, picking up his head to look down at her damp with sweat face. He removed his hands from her hips and wrapped his arms under her torso so she was lifted up from the bed slightly to rest on them. His hands tangled up in her chocolate curls and he buried his nonexistent nose into hair- drinking in her sweet scent.

"Just- Just _do _it, Charon."

He clenched his eyes tightly shut, realigning himself with her hips and muttered into her hair;

"_I'm sorry…_"

He plunged into her, stopping the moment his member ripped through the thin wall that was her hymen and she screamed, arching up into his chest and threw her head to the side, continuing to scream as she clutched the sheets so tightly her nails dug into the skin of her palms and tears streaked down her face. The scream she made ripped through his chest like he ripped through her, and his heart began to ache.

Aimee's screams dwindled down to pained whimpers and hiccups as she continued to cry. It felt like she was being ripped in two by a white-hot poker buried deep inside of her, and she wondered when the pain would end. She opened up an eye to find Charon hovering over her in her blurry vision, frowning down at her with his brow muscles furrowed together with concern. He leaned down, resting his body on top of hers and moved his arms under her so she was pressed up closer to him as he kissed away her tears. She swallowed hard, hiccupping repeatedly as he brushed her bangs out of her face. The tears continued to come while the pain throbbed in a place she never thought would ever hurt.

"I'm sorry, Aimee… I'm _so _sorry…" He rasped apologetically and ran his fingers through her hair, petting her comfortingly as he closed his eyes again. She cuddled up against his chest, knees on each side of his hips, and closed her own eyes.

"It- It's not your fault… It's not like you meant to hurt me on _purpose-_ it happens…" She reasoned, tracing shapes on his chest muscles. "You're so _hot, _Charon… I feel like I- like I'm trapped underneath a heater or something..."

"Do you want me to get off you?" He asked, pushing up on his arms to get off her but she stopped him by grabbing his biceps. "We could try a different position." She gave him a smile with watery eyes, blossoms of a bright red blush on her cheeks as the thought.

"No… I like being under you- making me feel all warm and close... I feel really safe with you on top of me like this," She explained, resting her head against his chest again. "I like it like this… I really do."

"…Does it still hurt?"

"A- A little…" Aimee admitted and gave a small nod. "Jesus, Charon…" She chuckled. "I've never seen a guy as big as you before."

"Have you ever even seen a… _Guy,_" He emphasized the word with a smirk directed down at her. "Before?"

"I meant _height _wise, you pervert!"

"Says the girl sleeping with a ghoul."

"Wha- _What?"_ She exclaimed with wide, mortified eyes and he couldn't help but chuckle at her twisted expression. "Is that-… _Bad?_"

"Nah. Some people just have weird fetishes." He explained.

"I don't have a weird fetish!" She cried out, blushing furiously.

"Again- says the girl sleeping with a ghoul."

"You're so mean to me…" She pouted innocently and gyrated her hips under him, making him groan at the shock that snapped through his body from her.

"Ho- How about _now?_" He asked- albeit a little more desperate than he wanted to sound.

"No… I think you can move now." She continued to move her hips in that rocking motion as she gripped his biceps. "Yeah, you're good."

The ghoul cautiously pushed himself deeper into Aimee, causing her to grip his arms tighter and she closed her eyes, throwing her head back as a moan was pulled from her lips and exposed her smooth neck to him. He leaned down and bit it gently, sucking and wringing the tip of his tongue around the purple spot before kissing the abused flesh as he pulled out of her slowly, sheathing himself halfway inside of her. She moaned into his hand at the side of her face, his fingers tangled in her curls still and she gently kissed his palm- her lips brushing against it as he again pulled out of her slowly. She gripped the headboard of the bed as he slid back into her, a little more than halfway but not the _whole _way. He honestly wanted to see how much of him his petite little employer could take.

"Cha- _Cha- __**ron…**__**ˮ**_ His name parted from her lips in broken fragments as he rocked back in and out of her at an easy pace. She began to shift out from under him due to the force, so he took her hands, which were digging into the headboard, and wrapped them around his neck.

"Here… Hold onto me." He murmured, smiling slightly when she tightened her grip around his neck to pull him down into another kiss as he continued to rock in and out of her, drawing his member all the way out so only the tip resided in her before pushing it all the way back in. She would cry out in surprise and pleasure every time, moaning when he was either pulling out or thrusting back into her. She buried her face against his chest, forehead slick with sweat pressed into his shoulder as noises of every caliber tumbled from her pouty mouth- from desperate moans to quick whispers and half-tellings of his name teetering on the edge of her lips.

Aimee wanted to feel more of him. Cracking an eye open, she found his head bowed and snuggled up against the crook of her neck and shoulder, still nibbling and sucking and licking and kissing the skin there. He was doing things she never even _imagined _a man could do to a woman to make her feel so good, but knowing that he was the one showing her all these magnificent things…

The telltale sign of her second orgasm began to spike through her and she wrapped her trembling legs around his waist, locking them at the ankle as he made love to her, propelling her upward so she almost hit the headboard but with his arms underneath her, tangled in her hair and her arms around his neck… He was making sure she was safe underneath him- safe and snug and warm trapped underneath his hot body… Sweat dripped from her skin, from her forehead, almost _flooding _from her pores and into the already soiled bed sheets under them. She tilted her head up so he had better access to her collar bone to nibble on that too.

"Ch- _Charon…_" She moaned against his chest loudly, causing him to groan in reply and fill her up, forcing himself to a stop with his member buried to the hilt inside of her. She moved her hips, trying to get him to move again, but all he did was pick his head up and stare back down at her with a devilish smirk.

"M- _Move…_" Aimee whispered pleadingly. "_**Please…**_"

He brushed her hair out of her eyes, the devilish trait in his smirk softening as he looked down at her almost lovingly, obeying her demand and slowly moved all the way out of her before slamming back into her, causing her to jolt up in his arms. Her orgasm was almost there- _just about there…_ All she needed was a few more thrusts. That was when she noticed that Charon's breathing was ragged, coming out uneven and struggled and he was staring down at her with his sharp blue eyes tearing through her being straight down to her soul as he continued to give her all this attention that was so slow and… and _gentle._ She didn't know that he knew _how _to be gentle with the way he man-handled a lot of situations, but the way he pet her and kissed her and _embraced_ her... He should learn to be gentle more often.

He knew she was going to come soon, by the way the muscles residing in her sex were pulsating and clenching around his member and he knew _he _was going to come soon because it was slowly making its way up to the tip of him. Aimee's moans turned to yells as his groans were thorough but not really depicting anything other than the fact that this passionate act that they were playing leading roles in felt too _damn_ good.

"_Charon… I'm going to- oh __**God **__I'm going to-!"_ Aimee tossed her head back, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she released herself- her orgasm stronger than the first one, again taking her by surprise even though she believed she was ready for it- and cried out in pleasure. Loud and long, but still timid and sweet at the same time.

Charon was not too far behind as he thrusted in and out of her a few more times, groaning aloud in that hoarse, gritty rasp of his that sent a shiver down her spine as he released himself inside of her- his pleasure spilling out to drip down her thighs and he collapsed on top of her. They lay like that with no complaints- she with her arms still around his neck and her legs loosely wrapped around his waist, he with his arms still wrapped under her so his hands were in her hair. He licked away the sweat dripping down her jaw and neck and she cracked an eye open at him, giving a weak smile.

"Th- That was… _Oh sweet Mary mother and __**Christ…**_" Her eye closed back up again and her smile deepened as she tried to get her heart to slow down and her breathing to return to normal. He began to pry off her arms from his neck and her legs from around his waist so he could withdraw his now flaccid member, eliciting a small coo from her plump lips. He sat back and grabbed the covers, throwing them onto her as he got up from the bed. She immediately opened her lazy eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. The blanket slid away so it collected around her waist and sprawled over her legs, revealing her naked torso.

"Charon?" Aimee called questioningly, watching as he began to pick up their clothes from the floor. "Oh no, you can just leave that." She beamed at him tiredly and rubbed her heavy eyes. "We can leave it for later… Why don't you come back and get some rest? _We can __**cuddle,**_" She teased with a giggle. "That's what people do after they have sex- right?"

"Are you ordering me to?" Charon asked, continuing to pick up their belongings off the floor. Her smile faltered a fraction, feeling a bit alarmed by his tone of voice.

"U- Uhm… No, it was just a joke." Aimee began slowly. "You don't have to cuddle with me if you don't want to, but it'd be nice if I had a warm body to fall asleep next to…"

"You only demanded that I have sex with you- I'll come to rest beside you when you demand that I do as well." He replied, folding up their clothes neatly to place them in two separate piles on the nearby table.

Her smile completely disappeared, replaced with a frown and she pulled up the blankets to her stomach. "Charon what's gotten _into _you? Didn't you enjoy that?"

"…I did." He confessed, realizing that he was missing a sock and looked around on the floor for it.

Why was he being so… _Cold-_ and _distant _from her all of a sudden?

"It was like-… Like you were a different person…" She admitted fondly, unable to help the small smile that came to her face despite the alarm Charon was putting her through. She wanted to find a way to bring back that warm, affectionate, and _gentle _Charon that she had just moments ago because she missed him already. "When we were doing it… You were smiling and you even laughed a little. And then-… You kissed me first. I didn't have to do it first this time."

"You asked that I treat you like I lover," He responded as he found his sock under the bed, straightening up to gaze back down at her with his eyes sharp and shiny, his brow furrowed down over them. "So I acted like I loved you."

The hotel room suddenly turned cold and shattered around them, breaking the warm atmosphere they had created only moments ago. Pain pushed itself into Aimee's chest, tightening it to the point where she felt it was hard to breathe and she grabbed the blankets and soiled bed sheets with a shaky hand, pulling them up to her chest to hide her exposed breasts and settled back into the bed, resting against the pillows and refused to look back at him.

And then it donned on her… As he turned away to put his sock with its twin, she watched him move unhurriedly and she wondered if she made a terrible mistake. He had changed so suddenly- warm and passionate, telling her that she was beautiful and perfect as he-… He _kissed _her and touched her and made love to her… The transition from something so welcoming that made her feel safe- something she hadn't felt to its full extent since she was last with her father almost a year ago back in Vault 101. She felt lighter than air only moments ago, and now the clouds were crashing down around her and the sky was falling down on what she thought was beautiful because _they _had created it together.

"_You asked that I treat you like I lover, so I acted like I loved you._"

The tears swelled in Aimee's eyes and she clenched them tightly shut as she ripped the covers off of her bare body and jumped up from the bed. Charon watched her indifferently as she went to her bag and pulled out fresh clothes, quickly putting them on without cleaning up the aftermath of their love making that was still evident on her body and she made her way to the door when she was fully dressed.

She had never felt so cold in her life… So ugly, so imperfect, so _unwanted_ and the words dug their way into her mind and heart- making her believe that whatever he said when they had sex wasn't true when _she _meant _everything _she had said to him… She felt like she gave it her all and he had only lied to her throughout the entire thing. And what was worse, she had _asked _him to do that- to treat her like a lover. She just didn't know that it would hurt so much when it was over. She didn't even think to realize that things would go back the way they were when their hearts slowed down, they slept off the pain (or she would, anyways- she was walking kind of funny now) and take their showers to clean themselves off.

It shouldn't have been a big thing… The sex, the words, the kisses…

But for some reason, it was now.

Aimee wondered if Charon foresaw it… And that was one of the main reasons why he pulled away and was unwilling to go along with her request at first.

As she lingered in the doorway no longer than a second, the coldness settled down into her aching body when she hoped that he would stop her and apologize… But her being was plunged into a freezing acid when he didn't and she slammed the door behind her, taking off down the hall with tears running down her cheeks.

Once she was gone, Charon looked to the soiled sheets on their bed and thought that it was a good idea to ask the woman who ran the hotel to get them fresh linens… But the only reason why he thought this was to distract himself from what he had _just _done and what he had _just _said to Aimee.

"_You asked that I treat you like I lover, so I acted like I loved you."_

He believed that he was only along for the ride- nothing more than that. She had told him to have sex with her if he wanted to, but because his mind wasn't currently _functioning _at that moment, he switched to the loyal slave that he was to whoever held his contract… So he obeyed her order and had sex with her, even though she gave him the option of choosing and it wasn't necessarily an order he had to follow to begin with.

The ghoul looked down at himself, the evidence of their orgasms beginning to dry and turn sticky on the ruined skin of his thighs and flaccid member- and when he saw the telltale signs of Aimee's blood drying amongst the semen as well…

Charon had never felt so cold in his life, either.


	45. CHP 45: Free Man, Now Broken Monster

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you're up bright and early this Saturday morning because I am up MUCH earlier than I would have liked to be :D! Yay!**

**Anyways- I decided that because I was up so early, I'd get posting done instead of doing it later on tonight. I'm out on the road with the family, and with all the driving around we've done I've had enough time to clean up chapters and whatnot for an early morning post.**

**For those of you watching Back in the Black Bayou, a new chapter will not be posted until the 27th of this month (Tuesday) so a full week can pass before the new chapter. Sorry for any of you who were looking forward to a posting of that story today!**

**But all that aside- here's the new chapter for Another War For Your Textbooks- and I hope you enjoy :D I listened to the song "Monster" by Paramore while writing some of this, and I gotta say the song SORTA fits their situation, but not exactly... I guess just the atmosphere the song created sort of made me think of the problem that these two are in xD**

**Will Charon fall into the gap that has been created between him and Aimee, or will he be able to mend the bridge that has been broken?**

**Find out NOW! :D**

**Happy reading, happy writing!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Charon stood at the balcony above the Rivet City marketplace. He leaned into the creaky railing, watching the thin hustle and bustle of the stands with Dogmeat at his side. He cleaned himself off and changed into his armor after Aimee ran off, and went to Vera at the hotel desk to clean their room because "trying to sew up Aimee made a mess." He didn't want to be around when Vera actually went to go clean the room… He was thankful that she didn't give him any shit, but the woman sure was talkative- like worse than <em>Aimee<em> talkative- and he knew she'd be yammering his ear off about the mess, and it would get worse if she figured out what the mess _actually _came from.

Well, that was if he still had ears to yammer off, anyhow…

So he decided to spend his time looking for Aimee. He had been at it for a little two hours now, if he had to guess.

_So… Aimee's not here, either._ He looked down at Dogmeat when an idea came to him.

"Hey, mutt."

The canine immediately perked his head up and barked in response.

"Find Aimee." He ordered.

Dogmeat cocked his head to the side and gave an obnoxious yawn. He sat back on his haunches before laying to the floor and dozed off. Charon stared down at him in utter disbelief.

…_Did I just get a big "fuck you" from a __**dog?**_ He thought with irritation, pushing the thought from his mind as he looked back to the marketplace and gave a small sigh.

"_You asked that I treat you like I lover, so I acted like I loved you._"

His fists clutched the railings so tightly he wondered if they would bend under his strain. His head began to swim and he unfurled one of his hands long enough to hold his forehead, as if it would help him clear his mind. He closed his eyes and leaned into the balcony railing, emitting a long and steady sigh before opening his eyes again.

_I have to __**find **__her… Have to find __**Aimee.**_

* * *

><p>"I'm not gonna get any money outta 'ya if all you do is stare at the beer I gave you," The owner of the Muddy Rudder- <em>Belle Bonny, right?...<em> Aimee tried to recall- scolded her.

_As if you have a __**right **__to scold me… I'm not __**your**__ fucking problem._

"Then go fishing for caps out of another pocket," Aimee snapped, gripping the base of her beer bottle. "I came here to be _alone-_ not get bitched out by a complete stranger for not buying anything more than a beer."

Belle's face tightened angrily but she turned away to serve another customer, probably finding it to be a better option than simply kicking Aimee out or arguing with her any further if she wanted more caps.

_**That **__got her off my back…_ She propped her elbows on the bar counter and brought the cold beer up to her forehead, sighing deeply. _Shit… I've got the __**biggest **__headache in the universe right about now… __**I wonder why.**_

"_You asked that I treat you like I lover, so I acted like I loved you._"

Aimee cringed on her bar stool, clamping her eyes tightly shut as she gripped the bottle _so hard _that her knuckles and fingertips turned ashen white against the brown glass.

_Was that-… Did I make a __**huge **__mistake?..._ She opened her eyes slowly, staring down at the bar counter. _Was picking Charon to do this with a __**huge **__mistake? But I thought- I thought that I had everything planned out in my __**head…**__ That he was the __**right **__person to do this with!_

"_You can't ask me about this because I'm a __**ghoul,**__ Aimee. And sometimes men just go for too long without that bond with another that they try to get it by any means necessary."_

…_Did I put too much trust in him? Is that what this was __**about?**__ He hadn't had sex in- what- a hundred __**fucking **__years and he saw __**me**__ giving him a __**way out?**_ Her head began to throb against the beer bottle and she pulled it back, realizing that she had it pressed to her forehead too hard. She held her head in her hands, feeling the tears rising up and she bit her lip to keep from making any noise.

"_Did you mean everything you just said?"_

"_Well… Of __**course**__ I did, Charon. Why would I say anything I didn't mean?"_

"…_I don't __**know…**__ This is __**dangerous…**__"_

"_And here I thought dangerous was your middle name,"_

She closed her eyes again, feeling her arms cave into her body as she continued to hold her head- her fingers brushing over her eyes as her body trembled.

"_Does my appearance bother you? If it does, I can put my shirt back on… Make it a bit more bearable."_

"…_No. Don't put your shirt back on, I __**like **__looking at you."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because you're different… When everyone else out there is the same… __**Terrible.**__"_

He kissed her.

"_**Ugly on the inside.**__"_

He held her close and told her she was beautiful.

"_**Selfish…**__"_

He made love to her.

_You are different from them, and that's why I trust you and care about you and love you."_

"_Because I'm ugly on the outside and not on the inside?"_

"_No, Charon… __**Because you look beautiful to me…**__"_

Then the tears came, rolling down her cheeks in relentless streams. _You were __**beautiful **__to me, Charon… You were someone I __**loved- **__someone I __**trusted…**__ I didn't think that you'd do that to me…_

"_**You look beautiful like this- Aimee…**__"_

_No! Get out of my head you __**bastard!**_ _I don't want you in there!_ She began to hiccup with the tears- her sobs coming up in choppy, incoherent noises and she was hiccupping harder with her shoulders trembling.

"_**Please?...**__ You don't have to hide. __**You're beautiful to me, too, Aimee...**__"_

_Get out of my head…_

"_**You're beautiful to me,**__"_

_Stop __**saying **__that…_

"_**You're beautiful to me.**__"_

_Stop __**saying **__things you don't even __**mean!**_

"_**You're beautiful to me, too, Aimee…**__"_

"Ge- Get out of my _head _you fu- fucking _bastard!..._" She crumpled forward onto the bar counter top, encircling her arms around her head as she continued to sob. "Why'd I have to choose _you?... _Why di- did I _e- ev- __**ever **__think _that _y- you _were a good choice?... _**Why?**_"

"Hey, kid-"

Aimee's head shot up, tears streaking down her face, hiccups and forced down sobs barely choking past her lips. Harkness stood behind her, gripping the backing of her stool with his brows crinkled together in concern.

"I- I'm not a kid…" She huffed in a pout, wiping her eyes.

"Sorry- don't exactly have an _age _radar lying around, 'ya know? Looks can be deceiving."

She knew he was referring to her short stature and her childish looks.

"You're the guy that "_greeted" _us a few hours ago…" He nodded. "Harkness, right?" He nodded again. "…Whaddya want?"

"Well, I came in here for a drink and I saw you." He shrugged as a warm smile spread onto his face, and he motioned to the stool next to hers. "It looks like you could use a drinking buddy… Mind if I sit with you?"

* * *

><p>Charon gave a brief look around in each of the marketplace stalls as he passed them- all with glaring eyes and uncertain and skittish glances at his back. He knew he wasn't welcomed there- he was a <em>ghoul<em> after all- but all those glaring eyes made him feel like there was something writhing under the surface of his mottled skin. It was like all their eyes said; "_we __**know **__you hurt her. We __**know **__that you hurt Aimee… And when she sells your contract to someone __**else-**__ she won't be hurting anymore._"

The thought made him stop in the center of the marketplace, people inching around him to avoid touching him as he stared at the floor with his fists clenched at his sides. Dogmeat stopped at his side, gazing up at him curiously before barking to get his attention. Charon looked down at him pleadingly.

"Mutt where _is _she?... Can't you find her?"

Dogmeat looked away at one of the stalls, obviously finding it more interesting and trotted over to it to harass the dark-skinned man that owned the clothing stall by barking at him. The ghoul sighed and went over to drag the beast of a canine away when his eyes caught the weapons shop.

_Flak 'n Shrapnel's…_ He mused, letting Dogmeat go but made sure he was at his side before walking towards it. A man in about his thirties with shaggy brown hair and thick stubble on his chin stood in front of an open cabinet at the front of the stall, pulling out miscellaneous weapons and boxes of ammo to place on the wide counter.

_I wonder if this place sells shotguns…_

"Be right with 'ya, man." The man stated without even looking at Charon.

The ghoul crossed his arms over his chest to wait as he panned his eyes across the marketplace. People were huddled in front of stalls, talking to the vendors about this and that. He was planning on buying some food from the galley at the end of the market so Aimee had something to eat when she returned, but he doubted she'd actually eat it. He was also thinking of going into that drug stall- _A Quick Fix-_ to get some more medical supplies. You could never spend too much caps on Stimpaks. But the way people were glaring at him as they walked by was _really _starting to piss him off, and his brows furrowed together in frustration.

_Fucking __**watching **__me like I belong in a freak exhibit or something…_ He held up his hand to look down at it- he was wearing his gloves, but they were fingerless so he could see all the missing skin and exposed muscle and flesh on his fingers. _Maybe I __**should **__be…_

"O- Oh."

Charon turned back to the man who was filling up his stall's counter space with weapons. He was finished with his task and staring at him with small, beady eyes.

"We don't take _your _kind at Flak n' Shrapnel's."

"My kind?"

"_Zombies._" He hissed with a snarl. "I think you should get out of here you rotting meatbag. You're gonna scare away all my customers."

Charon realized that when he was with Aimee, people treated him- _differently._ They smiled and made jokes and they tried to talk to him a little, even though all their attempts were in vain. They would be nice to him, for the most part- or if they were complete dicks they would try to be nice or smarten up and keep quiet after Aimee ripped them a new asshole. They would even make sure not to so much as _glare_ at him or give him dirty looks when she was around.

_She never treated me like they all do…_ He narrowed his eyes and turned away, dragging Dogmeat behind him who was growling and snarling at the weapons proprietor. _It's always different when she's around…_

With a startled realization, Charon knew that things _were _different when he was with Aimee. Not just the people, and the way their attitudes changed- but the air and the atmosphere, the emotion, the hope, the _survival _of these people changed… And it was all because she left Vault 101. It was all because she _existed…_

"Hey, you!"

Charon stopped and glanced up into one of the stalls. He turned his eyes up to the sign- _Rivet City Supply-_ and then looked back down to the man who sat behind the counter who was calling for him. He had a thick moustache on his upper lip and a thin soul patch on his chin. He was wearing a dirtied white shirt with stitched together overalls and-… _Is that a helmet?_

"Yeah, you." The man with the helmet waved him over again with a smile. "The name's Seagrave. Seagrave Holmes. You look like you could use some help, friend."

The ghoul looked around the marketplace, wondering if maybe he was being punked by some of the locals because he was a ghoul and knew that if he _was_ being punked heads would roll. He didn't take shit from anyone- well, anyone who didn't own his contract, at least. He looked down at Dogmeat for an answer, but the canine didn't seem to be picking up anything negative about this "Seagrave" guy, so he made his way to the stall.

_Yeah… I guess I __**could **__use some help._

* * *

><p>"Huh… Never would have guessed," Harkness mused thoughtfully as he nursed his drink and looked to Aimee. "When I heard there was a guy running around Rivet City with a Vault jumpsuit on, I figured he scrounged it from the ruins or something." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I never would have guessed that he <em>actually <em>ran from a _Vault…_"

"We both did," She nodded, looking to her beer bottle to see that it was about half-way empty and she was feeling a little sick… But for some reason she wouldn't stop sipping it. "I escaped too because I needed to find him…"

"How come?" He asked, bringing his scotch to his lip.

"…I honestly don't know." She shook her head and took another small, measured sip from her bottle. "I think because I wanted to know _why…_ I wanted to know why he left me all alone like that," She swirled around the liquid in her bottle. "I wanted answers… Now I'd just settle for finding out if he's okay."

"You're not pissed with him?"

"Again, I don't know." She never thought about it before… _Was _she pissed at him? "But if I am, and I just don't know it… I have the _right _to be pissed, don't I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that he left me in there _alone- _like he thought I was _stupid _enough to roll over and continue playing in that hole like nothing had changed. Like him escaping had no _impact _on my life? He left without telling me he was leaving, and even so he left me without telling me _why._ He left me a holotape to listen to about his leaving, and you know where I found it?" She looked to him. "I found it on his assistant's body… His name was Jonas." She looked back down to her drink- remembering how she left his broken glasses upon the metal desk outside of the Overseer's office as a little shrine for him. "And he was like a _brother _to me… So many people _died _that day because my dad left… And because he was the only doctor the Vault had, whoever survived the chaos but were injured were unable to get help. They had to _suffer._"

…Yeah. She sure was pissed _now._

Aimee sighed deeply and grabbed a tattered sheet of paper from the dented metal napkin dispenser and turned to Harkness.

"You gotta pen on you?"

"I got a-… uhm…" He patted around the pockets on his combat armor, smiling when he pulled out a pencil and handed it to her. "Will this work?"

"Mhmm. That'll work just fine," She nodded, taking it from him and turned back to the ragged napkin she was drawing on.

"Have you talked to Dr. Li yet?" Harkness asked, looming over her shoulder to watch her work.

"Not yet… I'm sorta scared to hear what she has to say," She admitted with a small smile.

"Been too busy for the past few hours you've been here?"

Aimee stopped sketching.

"_**Please?...**__ You don't have to hide. __**You're beautiful to me, too, Aimee...**_"

And then she started sketching again.

"I guess you could say that. Got scratched by a feral ghoul coming up from the metro tunnels outside… Had to get myself stitched up and I had to get some rest before I did any walking around."

"A feral got you _that _deep? Did it bite you or something?"

"No," She gave a dry chuckle. "I was already injured to begin with. I have stitches on my shoulder- when the feral scratched me, it caught me by surprise because it was behind me… Opened up my stitches pretty good. Charon had to sew me up."

"Charon?"

"…The guy I was with, when I met you earlier…" She turned to him. "His name's Charon…"

"Oh, the ghoul." His expression turned to one of slight concern. "If you don't mind my asking- he's not causing you any… _trouble,_ is he?"

_Oh, you have __**no **__fucking idea, Harky-boy…_

"No," She shook her head and smiled sweetly. "Why do you ask?"

"We- Well, he's just so big and you're so-…"

"_Sooo-_ what?" She laughed.

"…Small."

Aimee laughed again. "I'm not _small,_" She pointed at him with the eraser end of her pencil, using the other hand to bring her beer bottle to her lips and took a heavy swig- shuddering at the gross taste. "I'm _fun-sized._"

"Fun-…sized?"

"Yeah." She went back to drawing. "Ever gone scavenging in a grocery store? Sometimes they have special boxes of Fancy-Lads made for kids. The cakes are bite-sized pieces so they don't choke on them- and on the package it says "fun-sized." After I found my first box like that, I started calling myself _fun-sized _instead of short… Keeps it interesting, 'ya know?"

Harkness laughed and Aimee smiled up at him. His black combat armor glinted in the dim light of the Muddy Rudder, and a shrapnel of memory split through her mind.

_**Boys and girls, we've got ourselves another holier-than-thou white-knight who needs putting down.**_

Her eyes widened in fear, and she dropped her pencil onto the counter, holding her head in her hands.

_Fu- Fuck… I wasn't supposed to tell __**anyone **__that I'm from the Vault! Those Talon fucks could trace me back here! __**Shit!**__ I didn't even __**think **__about that! Fuck all, Aimee!_

"Hey, fun-sized?" Aimee cut her eyes to Harkness, and it actually made him flinch. "Something the matter?"

"I-…" She shook her head quickly and put on a brave face. "No. Everything's fine."

"That's what my wife said before she left me- c'mon, I know that look anywhere. Especially when it's on a pretty face. What's on your mind?"

"…I wasn't supposed to tell anyone." She fiddled with her borrowed pencil on the counter top, staring down at her random doodle-sketch of a radroach. "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that I'm from the Vault."

"Someone after 'ya?"

She nodded, looking up to him. "Yeah, but I don't know _who._ All I know is that they've enrolled the help of the Talon Company mercenaries."

"That sounds pretty bad…" He mused, taking another sip of his scotch.

"…It could cause a lot of trouble for me, now that I've told you."

"You think I'm gonna tell anyone?" He leaned in close to her to whisper. "Nah… A man's got secrets of his own."

"And what kinda secrets does _this _man have?" She whispered back, her frowning lips pulling back up into a smile.

"Well, I'm a spy for a secret organization. We're doing background work on Belle Bonny and the quality of her alcohol, and-…" His voice trailed off as he broke into silly grin, and they both broke out into boisterous laughter.

"But anyways, you think I'm gonna tell anyone?" He took a sip of his scotch. "That really isn't my style. Not unless they come looking for you here- _then _it'll be a problem."

Aimee frowned and looked away. "I- I'm sorry… I didn't mean to cause trouble. Charon and I should leave soon…"

"I meant that if they come here, I'm sure Rivet City's gonna be a problem for _them._"

"Wa- Wait… _What?_" She snapped her eyes back to him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Guess you really didn't get out much on this rusted tub," Harkness laughed, drinking up the rest of his scotch before slamming the cup back to the counter. "Everyone's been talking about you since you got here. They _know _who you are. They know who your friend is, too."

Aimee's eyes widened in horror and she held her head in her hands. "Fu- Fuck… I don't _believe _this… Wait- how do they know who I am?"

"They know that you're the Lone Wanderer," He stated and glanced over to her from the corner of his eyes. "I don't listen to GNR much, but the locals sure do. After one of them saw me talking to you, they ran up to me and told me who you were. You've got a bit of a fan club with the kids here, the adults seem to look up to you-" He shrugged. "When they saw you, they just _knew…_ But Vera told me it was because Three Dog's always going on about how short you are and how tall your ghoul friend is. You stick out like a sore thumb with your- um… _Height advantage._"

"Haha. You're _hilarious._"

"He calls you guys the new Argyle and female Herbert Daring Dashwood," He snickered. "Or so I've been told."

"Jesus, _that _show?" She cringed. "Sure, the episodes are entertaining but they're just-… They're just _terrible!_"

Harkness barked laughter. "They're not too bad, and don't worry, kid. I'm not telling anyone a damn thing about your Vaultie persona- but I can't say too much about the locals… They've got mouths as big as the ship. Hey- you're pretty good at that." He peered over her shoulder at her drawings.

"You really think so?" She gave a gracious smile. "Thanks. I wanted to be an artist in the Vault, but I got stuck being the Vault _Chaplain _instead…"

"Get outta here!" He laughed.

"Hand to God," She cracked with a childish grin. "_Literally._"

He chuckled. "Well, the Vault doesn't know what they're missing. You're an amazing artist… But that's a pretty strange subject to keep drawing."

"What, radroaches?"

"No," He furrowed his brows at her and pointed at the napkin she was using to draw on. "You've been drawing ghouls for the past few minutes."

Aimee blinked down at him before panning her eyes down to her napkin. Her eyes widened in horror, and her body tensed on her stool at the doddles and sketches she had drawn of ghouls in different positions. One was dozing off in a kicked back chair, another was fixing and cleaning down his gun, another was trying to shoo off a large dog, another was making a grumpy face…

But what shocked Aimee more was that they were _all _doodles and sketches of _Charon_ that she had subconsciously drawn.

Oh- and they were all shirtless.

* * *

><p>"Here 'ya go," Seagrave placed the combat shotgun and two boxes of shells on his counter top in front of Charon.<p>

"Thank you." He nodded graciously, taking the shotgun and the shells from the counter and replaced it with a bunch of caps. Because the man- who Seagrave referred to as Shrapnel- refused to sell to Charon because he was a ghoul, Seagrave said he'd buy him whatever he needed as long as he could pay him back. It was an interesting partnership, to say the least.

"Uh, I don't mean t'pry, friend…" Seagrave began, pointing to Charon's own combat shotgun on his back. "May I ask why you bought another shotgun if you already have one?"

…_Friend?_ He couldn't help but furrow his brows together, but the change in his expression left his face before Seagrave even had a chance to notice.

"If it's broken, I could have fixed it for you."

"It's for my employer." Charon responded.

"Employer? Oh- are you out running errands?"

Aimee never told him that he couldn't speak to other people like Ahzrukhal did. So- this was okay, right? She was always trying to get him to talk to other people, but he felt no need to because Aimee was always around to speak for the both of them. He felt alien in his own skin when he had to speak for himself to someone who _wasn't _his employer… It was strange.

"…You could say that." He finally answered.

"I see!" He smiled, putting his caps into his cash register.

"…Have you seen a young woman walking around by herself?"

"Huh?" Seagrave looked up at him curiously. "A young woman? Is she your employer?"

Charon nodded. "Four-foot-nine. Curly brown hair. Big grey eyes. Kind of looks like she's twelve."

"That's pretty short… She'd stick out _anywhere,_ wouldn't she?" He rubbed his chin. "I _did _see a woman like that. I saw her come in with you a few hours ago, yeah… Oh wait! I _did _see her again by herself!"

"Where'd she go? _Tell me._"

"She went outside," He pointed to Rivet City's exit.

The ghoul looked at the door with narrowed eyes. _Don't tell me she'd be stupid enough to leave Rivet City on her __**own…**_

"She was crying when I saw her." Seagrave murmured, and scratched his chin. "The poor thing looked pretty upset."

Charon froze in place and looked down at Dogmeat. He could have sworn the mutt gave him a disappointed whimper before huffing in annoyance… Or was that irritation?

He was thinking too hard.

"Alright. Thank you." He gave Seagrave another gracious nod, his eyes catching something in the corner of the stall, up on the shelf. The junk vendor followed his gaze, beginning to smile when he saw what had caught the ghoul's attention.

"Oh, you like bobble heads, huh?" He got up from his stool behind the counter and grabbed it, showing it to Charon. The Vault Boy was holding a giant needle. "I bought this off of Dr. Li for a few caps- I don't think she even knew how _rare _these are!" He sighed in defeat. "And sadly no one _else _realizes how rare it is, either. No one wants to buy-"

"How much is it?"

* * *

><p>"Mnmm," Aimee made a small, content noise as she stretched her limbs up to the ceiling, listening to them pop and crackle in her ears. "Thanks for drinking with me, Harkness."<p>

"You consider just two beers drinking?" He chuckled.

"Well, I'm not much of a drinker, actually…" She scratched the back of her head and gave a weary smile. "I thought that now was as good a time as any to try, I guess."

"Hmn…" He rubbed his chin in thought. "Let's get together for another round when you can play with the _big _boys."

"The… _Big _boys?"

"Yeah. _Vodka!_"

They laughed as they ascended the stairs towards the bridge of Rivet City, standing out in the night air with the breeze rustling around them. It carried a relaxing smell up from the murky water below.

"Well, either way, I had a nice time."

"Hope I didn't intrude on anything by coming over to you," He admitted, folding his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall by the door. "You just looked like you needed someone to talk to."

"Did I?" She blinked up at him, and he nodded.

"Fun-sized, you were _crying_. Besides, if Belle saw that she would have tried to strangle the very caps out of you. She knows when it's not her place to speak, so she lets the alcohol do the talking for her and the money just goes _sailing _into her cash register." Harkness explained, looking out into the night. "Were you upset because of your father?"

"_You asked that I treat you like I lover, so I acted like I loved you._"

"…Yeah." Aimee lied, looking out at the bridge. It was a lot longer than she remembered.

He turned his eyes back to her, and she turned back to him. Her full lips parted in wonder when his eyes glinted bright blue in the dim light of the night- a really _intense _bright blue. But as soon as she saw it, it was gone, and she reasoned with herself that it was just the moonlight reflecting in them… Or something. The blue shade of them reminded her of Charon.

"I can tell you're not telling the truth, kid… But I'll let it slide. Not really any of my business," He gave her a comforting smile.

"…You have really nice eyes." She quipped, trying to change the conversation. She didn't want to think about Charon when she was having such a nice time with Harkness- but even through all their jokes and talking and drinking, the ghoul still lingered there- right behind her eyes like a shadow. A shadow with cold as ice blue eyes.

"Is that so?" His smile deepened. "I bet you say that to _all_ the commanders."

She snorted, grinning. "Nah. Just you."

"Well, you're not too bad yourself. But this dog's too old to be chasing young, pretty girls anymore." He walked towards the bridge and motioned for her to follow. They went out towards the railing, and he leaned his elbows against it as she stood next to him. "How old are you, anyways?"

"I'm nineteen. Turning twenty in… Oh, I'd say a week. Maybe less, maybe more. I dunno… Kinda lose track of time out here. I don't even bother to check my Pip-Boy anymore."

"Nineteen, huh?" He looked over to her as she leaned against the railing. "You look more like a thirteen year old."

"_Do not!_" She squealed with laughter, smacking his arm. "Well how old are _you?_"

"I'm thirty-five."

"Thirty-_five?_ You look like you're twenty-something!" Aimee exclaimed with wide eyes.

"I mentioned that I had a wife once before, didn't I?" He chuckled. "Looks like we're both in the same boat."

"What do you mean?"

"We both look younger than we actually are…" He murmured, looking out into the water below.

"I guess. But I think it's more of an offense to me than it is to you. I mean- I go around everywhere with people thinking I'm a _kid_ because of my height and how young I look. I don't mind it, but people can be pricks about it."

"Heh. Then imagine how good you're gonna look when you're _my _age."

"If I last that long." She chuckled sadly.

"Hey-" Harkness straightened up and looked down at her. "You're gonna grow to be old and grey with tons of little fun-sized brats just like you running around."

"Oh lord, I hope not!" Aimee laughed. "I've been told I'm a handful… Besides, how do you know I'll last that long?"

"Just a feeling… I have about you." He muttered. "You're going to outlive us _all._"

"_Aimee!_" A raspy voice called, causing Aimee to spin around on her heel with wide eyes and Harkness to look up with an alarmed expression. It was Charon, running towards them with a package under his arm and Dogmeat tailing him, barking wildly.

"_**Charon?**_" She exclaimed as he halted in front of her, not at all out of breath.

"We need to talk." He said, eyes darting to Harkness and they narrowed dangerously. The commander reciprocated the glare as Aimee looked back and forth between the two of them helplessly. She suddenly remembered that she didn't clean herself up after sleeping with Charon, and now she was _literally _itching for a shower. She didn't want to talk to him right now. She wanted to shower and sleep away the ache between her legs because the alcohol was starting to wear off and the pain was resurfacing. How long had she ached before she even _noticed?_

"I-… Charon, I don't want to talk…" She murmured, causing his ice cold eyes to cut back to her. "Not right now. I just- I can't. I don't _want _to. I want to shower and go to sleep. We'll talk later."

"The longer we leave this alone, the harder it will be to fix." He stated.

"_If there's anything __**left **__to fix…_" She murmured with trembling lips, and looked away, wrapping her arms around body to hug herself tightly with her eyes watering up at an alarming rate.

His eyes widened down at her. He made her cry earlier, when she ran from the hotel and here he was doing it again because he insisted on working it out. He didn't want her getting rid of his contract- not without a fight. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to leave _her _because he didn't _want _to protect anyone else... He couldn't bring himself to protect anyone else.

"Aimee, listen to me. We need to _talk._" He outstretched a hand towards her. "_Please…_" He added on desperately.

"I said _no._" She answered sternly, but she shied away from his hand.

"_Aimee-_" He stepped forward to take her arm, but Harkness stepped between the two of them- his face twisted into one of bravery, brow furrowed down over his intense blue eyes and they glinted with protection for her.

"She said she doesn't want to talk." He stated firmly. "She will speak to you when she's good and ready."

Charon remained quiet- if you took exception of the infuriated growl he emitted- and watched as Harkness turned to Aimee behind him.

"It's alright, kid. If you'd like, you can stay in my room tonight." He placed his hand on her shoulder gently, and she looked up at him with the tears overflowing and streaking her cheeks. The ghoul's eyes focused on his hand that was resting on her shoulder, eyes snapping back up to the commander's face as he gave his employer a reassuring smile and something snapped inside the ghouk. He didn't know if the snapping was in his chest or in his head, but something _snapped._ The package he had tucked under his arm dropped to the ground and he lunged forward with a feral snarl, tackling Harkness to the floor with Dogmeat barking wildly, not at all sure what was going on and if he should join in or not.

"_Cha- __**Charon!**_" Aimee exclaimed in horror, frozen in place as the two rolled across the bridge to the opposite railing. Charon won- sitting on Harkness' stomach with his giant hands clamped around his neck.

"_Don't you __**ever **__touch her again._" He hissed through clenched, yellow teeth.

"Charon, that's _enough!_" She cried with more tears streaking down her face. She rushed over, grabbing at one of his arms to pull him off of Harkness, who was struggling to breathe and choking for air. "Charon, get off him! He didn't do anything!"

His response to that was to tighten his grip around the commander's neck instead. She panicked, seeing the color drain from Harkness' face and an idea struck her like lightning.

"_Charon I __**order **__you to let go of Harkness!_"

Aimee's words cut through his thoughts like a serrated blade and he turned to stone in place- feeling the words of his contract pound into his mind in bolded print letter by letter as if he had a typewriter just clacking away up in his skull.

**Subject of this contract must obey and carry out any and **_**all**_** orders given by the contract holder.**

"…As you wish…" He murmured harshly, still through cleanched teeth, and released his grip from Harkness' neck and got to his feet. Harkness remained on the ground, taking in deep lungfuls of the night air, wheezing and coughing as he did so.

"Oh my God, Harkness!" She rushed over and helped him up from the ground. "Are you alright? I'm _so _sorry!"

"N- No, it's fine." He croaked, rubbing his bruised throat and glared up at Charon. "You need to put that- that _thing _on a leash!"

"I thought you said you weren't a bigot…" She muttered.

"It's not even _about _that, kid! And no, I don't have a problem with ghouls if they don't _attack_ me for no good God-damn reason!"

"I had a good reason." Charon stated gruffly.

"That's _enough_ out of you!" Aimee yelled, turning around to glare at him with the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Haven't you said _enough_ today?"

"_You asked that I treat you like I lover, so I acted like I loved you._"

Charon immediately went silent, his hands clenching into tigt, trembling fists at his sides while Dogmeat came and sat by him, the package he had dropped hanging by the twine it was tied with in his mouth. The dog sat back on his haunches and whimpered up at the ghoul sympathetically, unable to bark.

"C'mon, Harkness- let's get you to the doctor…" She helped him to his feet with some effort needed, tilting his head to the side with a hand under his chin to look at the big, red handprints clasped around his neck. Charon's fists tightened even more so. "Just tell me where it is and I'll take you there."

"It's fine- I'll just sleep it off. I've dealt with worse."

"Are- Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Harkness narrowed his eyes upon the ghoul once more. "But if _he _causes any more trouble on this ship, I'll have to kick him out."

"That won't be necessary. I will speak with Dr. Li and we will leave by tomorrow." She confirmed, turning to look him as well. "I'll have a talk with Charon..."

"Good… Get some sleep, kid. I'll come by and check on you in the morning." He turned and walked away with Aimee watching despairingly. The moment he passed through the door that led to the stairwell, Aimee went to the railing and looked down into the water with a blank look in her face- just watching her tears fall.

"You _attacked_ Harkness! And he's Rivet City's _commander,_ for God sakes!" She murmured, looking back up at him with desperation dangling in her eyes like a fractured, gleaming jewel. "Charon, what's come over you?..."

"_Haven't you said __**enough**__ today?" _Her voice yelled angrily in the back of his head.

"…No."

"Wha- What?" She blinked in confusion, considering the answer had nothing to do with what she had asked of him.

"No. I haven't said enough today- I haven't said enough if I have yet to apologize for what I have done." He stepped towards her and she straightened up from the railing. "I need to talk to you… _About earlier._"

"What is there to talk about? We had sex. That was it." Aimee snapped, darting her eyes away from his. "Nothing more than that."

_Why are you lying to yourself, Aimee?... There's **something** here- but I don't know if I __**want **__it to be here! Where did it even come from? When we slept together?_ She thought bitterly. _What __**is **__this?..._

"But what I said-" Charon began.

"What you said was _true._" She interrupted him briskly, trying to shove the thoughts out of the back door of her mind. "I told you to act like you loved me and you did just that. Can't get mad at you for doing what I asked… I'm going to go take a shower..." She began to walk away from him, her hand brushing against his as she passed by and he suddenly felt so cold and small once again- like when she ran away earlier and the weight of what they did settled upon his shoulders like the thick crumbling of dust.

He had spent the last few hours of his life searching _everywhere _in Rivet City to try and find her. He thought up all these different little scenarios in his head as to how he was going to apologize, but now that he was here and she was walking away, again, he couldn't bring himself to _say _anything to her… While he searched and searched and _searched,_ it gave him a lot of time to think about what he had truly done to her- to analyze what he said that ultimately fractured their relationship in two. Maybe Aimee was right- there was nothing left to fix.

But still, he kept on thinking… And he finally came to a conclusion.

_Every time I told you that you were beautiful-_

**"You look beautiful like this- Aimee…"**

_-I meant it. __**I meant it.**__ Those weren't just empty words- I was being honest. Hell, any man that comes across you can see it- I'm not a **complete **dumbfuck... The reason why I asked you-_

**"_What would you like for me to do?"_**

_-that was because I didn't want to do something that you didn't like. I only wanted to do what made you happy. And I kept asking you-_

**"_Are you sure you want to do this?"_**

_-because I wanted you to say __**no.**__ It would have been the only way for me to see that it was actually __**happening **__because no __**sane **__person would sleep with a ghoul… And I was okay with that. I was okay with you shoving me off and never going through with it because I believed it was inevitable._

**"_No, Charon… _Because you look beautiful to me…_"_**

_But you said yes- and you made me __**forget **__that I was a ghoul… You made me forget that I was a broken monster… And that scared me. What we __**did**__ scared __me because I didn't want Rose watching me from wherever she was, thinking that I didn't love her anymore… Even though she gave me up so I could love again. She had given me up so I could love someone **else **because she was slipping away from me, right before my eyes, no matter how hard I held onto her... **She was dying.**_

"_**Arin… My sweet Arin… I-… I'll be leaving you behind."**_

"_**Rose, I-"**_

"_**Please... Let me finish. I need to get this out- I've been thinking about this... About**_**us,_ for a very long time, now._**_** I'm going to die… I know I am. You know I am… And I'm a terrible person for making you stay here and **_**watch **_**me die."**_

"_**But I **_**want **_**to be here- I **_**want **_**to be here until you go… I want to be here till the very last second."**_

"_**When I'm gone, I want you to find someone else… Someone who will make you laugh again and smile again- someone who will make you happy. Someone who **_**won't **_**force you to wait at her hospital bed- just **_**waiting **_**for that terrifying moment when her heart monitor flat lines… I want you to find someone else so the world can see why I love you. So someone has the lucky chance to see the spectacular and brilliant man that you are.**"_

"_**Rose-**"_

"_**As of the moment my heart monitor flat lines, you are free, Arin… You are a free man… You are free to love again."**_

"_**Didn't you hear what I **_**said? I don't want to be free!"**

Charon spun around and ran towards Aimee, hearing her squeak in surprise as his arms wrapped around her and he pulled her back to him, hugging her tightly to his chest with his face buried into her shoulder. It had a light sprinkle of crimson- and he knew he'd have to clean her up later… If she allowed him, that is.

He didn't love her. He knew he didn't because he didn't have any feelings for her that were like what he had for Rose... But that was because Aimee _wasn't _Rose- and for some odd reason, he was okay with that... He was happy that she wasn't Rose, and even then he still cared for her all the same. He now had emotion attached to the person that he was protecting.

"Cha- Charon?"

"We need to talk."

She sighed warily and brushed her fingers through her bangs to get them out of her eyes. "Charon, we'll talk about this tomorrow… Right now I need a shower, and-"

"Not about us…" He shook his head against her shoulder. "We-… _I-…_"

"_But I'll be honest when I say that I hope you'll find enough trust in me one day to __**make**__ it my business, Char-bear."_

"…I need to talk to you about Rose."


	46. CHP 46: I Don't Want To Be Free

Aimee opened up the hotel room door and looked in, a damp towel hooded over her head as she ruffled it over her wet, unruly curls. Charon sat on the edge of the bed, clad in his full outfit of leather armor, with Dogmeat at his feet whining up at him dejectedly. The ghoul did nothing but stare into his empty, gloved hands with a blank look scrawled over his mottled face. He didn't even bother to look up at her.

"I'm sorry. I really had to take a shower…" He finally snapped his eyes up to look at her, and she gave him a small, sad smile. She didn't know why he suddenly wanted to talk to Rose, especially after they-… Well, they made love- and she had a small feeling that Rose was a past lover of his. A girlfriend before the war, or even the wife he once had.

_Did you have kids?_ She wondered, biting her lower lip when he said nothing and looked back down at his hands. _Did you have kids with her? Did you guys have a nice little house here in Washington- the kind with the nice paint job and the clapboard shutters and the whitewash picket fence outside? Did you have a dog or a cat or one of those butler robots like Wadsworth? Did you have a nice paying job in a nice building in D.C.?_

Then Aimee wondered- _why didn't I ask him any of these things before?..._

"So," She cleared her throat as she came over and sat at his side, draping the towel around her shoulders. The split ends of her hair seeped water droplets, and they dripped down the curve of her neck, sending a cold shock through her. She swiped at the drops with the edge of her towel. "What did you want to talk about?..."

"…Rose." He answered quietly, finally looking up at her. His emotionless expression twisted up into one of anguish, and conflict danced in his eyes- almost as if he didn't know how to feel about the name that rolled off his tongue.

"Alright," She nodded. "Go ahead."

"She was a woman I-… I was with. Before the Great War…" He began dryly and ducked his face away quickly, not wanting to meet her eyes. "She died not too long before the first bombs were deployed."

"Oh… I- I see…" Aimee frowned, blinking in surprise. What was she supposed to say to that? "It's okay?" No, because it obviously _wasn't_ okay if he was squirming around like that. "You'll find someone else?" That would have just been cruel, he wouldn't believe her. He'd simply snap "I'm a ghoul, who would want me?" and then she _again _wouldn't know how to reply to that.

"So how were you with her?... _Romantically?_" She asked awkwardly, looking up at him. He said nothing. "…Charon, if you're really _not _ready to tell me about her, you don't have to force it upon yourself." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you doing this because… Of what happened earlier? With us?"

His cool blue eyes came up and lingered on her face. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

"Are you trying to tell me about her because you think it'll _fix_ what happened?" She asked. "No. Don't do that, if that's what you're trying to do! You don't need to tell me about Rose because of what happened! Look, what happened earlier… It was a come-and-go thing! You don't need to worry about what happened afterward- I just needed some air, that's all…"

He looked back at his hands. "But it won't make what happened earlier any better. It won't fix it, like you think… It won't do much of _anything._"

"Then-… Then why are you telling me?"

"I'm telling you this because I _want _to, Aimee… No other reason."

"Oh."

"Yeah…"

"…Well, go on whenever you're ready."

"…Before the war, I ran with a lot of bad people. I won't go into detail over that- this is about Rose. The people I worked with liked to throw parties and get-togethers, a lot of private events and I met her at one. After that, she just kept coming back whenever we had one… Just to talk to me. She wouldn't talk to anyone else, and I couldn't comprehend why."

Charon sighed and wiped his face down. "After a few months, we started dating- and I took her _everywhere._ We went to Las Vegas a couple of times, I took her to DisneyLand because she always wanted to go there as a kid… Maine because it was quiet, Alaska because it was homey, Canada because it was cold. No matter where we went, she _loved _it. We even went to London, England… But then we settled down here, in D.C. That's when the… _problems…_ started."

"What sort of… Problems?"

"She got really sick," He answered quietly, a dull glint in his sharp blue eyes. "She was getting weaker, she wouldn't eat for _days,_ yet she was losing weight so quickly_…_ She was always pale, always so _tired,_ always sleeping and breaking out into terrible night sweats_…_ I told her to go to a doctor. She wouldn't listen to me, but I finally forced her to. The doctors told her that she had cancer."

Aimee's eyes widened in horror. They never got married or had kids or a nice house with the nice paint job, the clapboard shutters, and the whitewash picket fence because they never got the _chance _to… She died before they had a chance to do all those things.

"The- Then what happened?" Aimee asked.

"I had her admitted to the hospital. She went through radiation treatments, test after test after _test_, but nothing helped… They said she had stage four cancer, which meant-… The fucking doctors stamped a God damned expiration date on the bottom of her _foot._ Told her she was going to die, and like the good-for-nothing pricks that they were, they pretty much said that it was okay just as long as she stayed in the hospital so they could keep taking care of her, and I could keep paying them."

"They _said _that to her?" She exclaimed.

"No, but with the way they were acting they might as well have… Rose wasn't an idiot. She knew she was going to die, she didn't need the Lab Coats telling her that."

"Ch- Charon… I-…" Her fingers twisted around the corner of her damp towel in her lap.

Dogmeat whined where he lay, as if sensing the ghoul's pain and sat up, crawling lazily on his stomach to Charon. The canine nudged his knees apart and sat between them, laying his muzzle across Charon's thigh and looked up at him with sad, gleaming eyes and whined again. Charon clapped a large hand down on his head- and it must have been absentminded, because his eyes were blank and his face was unreadable.

"She died in Our Lady of Hope Hospital, a month before the bombs fell." Charon spoke quietly.

"Wha- _What?_" She gripped the towel tightly in her hand, _so _tightly that her knuckles turned white and her hands trembled. She could come up with no other responses that had more than one syllable, and she couldn't say something comforting because she didn't know what _to _say. She had known loss, but not the sense of loss that _he _felt…

The look in his blue eyes reinforced that. There was nothing she could say to comfort him, and there was nothing she could do to ease away his pain- she wanted to try so _desperately,_ but seeing him like this struck her to the spot as a figure of tense muscles and a rapidly pumping heart, her chest blossoming with ache.

"She passed away a month before the bombs fell- September 25th, 2077. The bombs fell on October 23rd, 2077… I'll never forget it."

Aimee wanted to ask why, but she felt like she didn't need to. Charon looked up at her, and almost as if seeing the question in her eyes, he licked his upper lip and the tense muscle in his neck twitched like it did sometimes. She ducked her grey eyes away from his blue ones, feeling the ache in her chest intensifying.

"I'll never forget it because the day she died, I was numb to almost the entire world dying only a few weeks later… She _was _my world, Aimee. Without her… I didn't care anymore. I just didn't give a shit about anything. The people I ran with would keep throwing their parties, because they thought, "hey, the world is ending- might as well go with a bang!", the doctors who took care of Rose would take the rest of my money and go off to the next patient… Everyone has a world in their mind's eye. Theirs kept spinning. Mind stopped completely and broke on my shoulders."

"Charon…"

"That's all I have to say- and that's all you have to know about her." He concluded, looking down at Dogmeat and, much to her surprise, scratched under his chin till his leg started thumping against the floor furiously. "We met, we dated, we loved, she died, and… I died, too. The day she died, I died with her, but she was able to go- someplace faraway- while I had to stay here and _rot…_"

He blinked, as if something had clicked in his head- something he hadn't realized or even _thought _about for a very long time… But Aimee could see the way his eyes gleamed. If only ghouls could cry… Get rid of that emotion that they need to let out by sobbing and yelling and screaming. It was like a teapot with its lid nailed down. There was no way for it to boil over and out.

Dogmeat whined at him again, pressing his muzzle into his palm to get his attention.

"The last thing she said to me… Actually, it was on the day that she died. The last thing she said to me was an hour before she passed away, holding my hand- she was taking a nap and had died in her sleep… She told me I was free."

"That you were-… free?"

Charon nodded, still looking at Dogmeat. It was almost like _he _was trying to avoid _her _eyes, now.

"_As of the moment my heart monitor flat lines, you are free, Arin… You are a free man… You are free to love again._ That's what she told me, word for word."

"Wait- did you say-… _Arin?_" Aimee questioned with wide eyes.

"Arin Bryne. That was my name before the Great War… A little afterward, too. But then it was changed."

"_Why?_"

"When I went into contract training. They try to erase who you are- no ties to the past- so that the only memories you have are of the endless, torturous sessions… They weren't able to break me. I had everything else taken from me- I wouldn't let them completely take Rose away from me, either." He answered impassively, finally looking up at her- and she was relieved. "The new name they gave me was Charon- after a figure in Greek mythology."

"The ferryman of Hades. Charon ferried over the souls of the dead across the rivers Styx and Acheron…" She murmured quietly.

"Rharken said I did that exactly. I brought the damned and the bloodthirsty to their knees, and then brought them to true hell- a purgatory… His reasoning never made sense to me, but that's who he was."

Aimee wanted to know who Rharken was, but then remembered that they were getting off task- so she went back to Rose.

"Charon, about Rose… _**Did **__you _ever love again? Like she said you could?"

His eyes turned sharp and menacing, and when she flinched, they softened.

"…No."

"Why not?"

"Because I still love her. I could never love anyone else."

"_You asked that I treat you like I lover, so I acted like I loved you._"

The words still rung fresh in Aimee's mind, still feeling like they would linger there and hurt her forever… She still didn't understand why it hurt so much in the first place- maybe it was how cold and heartless he sounded when he said it- but nevertheless, hearing him say it in this way, and now that she knew about Rose, she-… She wasn't upset anymore. Or not as much as she was.

She wasn't as mad at him anymore, but she was still mad at herself for forcing him to "love" her, and now she just felt guilty for-…

Aimee could feel the tears come to her eyes, feeling even _more _guilty now that she was thinking about _her _pain and not about _his _pain.

She just felt guilty for-…

_For kissing you._

"_Giving my thanks to the right person. __**You.**__" _

_For forcing you to have sex with me._

"_Charon… I'm going to- oh __**God **__I'm going to-!"_

_For forcing you to feel like you had to say __**all **__those things to me…_

"_**Please?...**__ You don't have to hide. __**You're beautiful to me, too, Aimee...**__"_

_Would it be strange if I said that I had to say sorry to myself too, Charon?..._

"_I-… I want you to love me."_

_Would it be strange if I said that I had to say sorry to myself too, because I gave myself a taste of something that I-… Something that was so __**wonderful**__ and __**amazing,**__ and I know that I'll never have that again?..._

"_You asked that I treat you like I lover, so I acted like I loved you._"

_Oh God… I'm so sorry for being so selfish! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm __**sorry-**_

"I'm sorry…" Aimee muttered, leaning up to wrap her arms around his midsection and hugged him tightly.

"Ai- Aimee?" He whispered into her damp curls.

"I'm sorry. For everything." She pulled back and looked up at him, offering a weak smile. "I'm sorry for all the things I've done to you."

"What have you done to me?"

"You-… You told me that there are certain things that two people in love should do- like… Like kissing, and doing-… _it._" She cleared her throat awkwardly. "You said you never loved anyone but her, and it looks like you'll never love _anyone_ but her, and I forced you to do something that only lovers should do with someone you don't love."

"Aimee-"

"Please… Let me finish."

Charon tensed, knuckles rolling and fingers curling at her words. Those were some of the few words Rose said before she said he was free of her- free to love another.

Was Aimee doing the same?... Was she about to say that he was free of her too? Was she going to tell him that he was free of his employment from her, and that he was free to serve someone else?"

"_**Didn't you hear what I **_**said? I don't want to be free!"**

"I'm a terrible person for what I did to you… And maybe- maybe we should split up… I'm obviously not a good employer, I'm not taking care of you like I should. Maybe you'd be better off working for someone else.Or maybe you could be a free man again- and work for yourself."

"_No._"

"Wait, what?" Aimee blinked at him, startled.

"I said _no._ I'm not leaving you." He barked. Dogmeat lifted his head in alarm, ears perking up.

"_What?_" Her grey eyes widened.

"I am _not _leaving you. I refuse to!"

"Charon-"

"There was no way you could have known about Rose. I chose not to tell you. Whatever happened before now doesn't matter! I'm not leaving you, I'm not giving my contract to someone else and I am _not _working for someone else!"

"Charon-!"

"_I'd rather __**die!**_"

Dogmeat's bark cut through the swelled air as Charon and Aimee stared at one another with blank expressions and wide eyes, not saying a thing, but letting the silence carry everything that was floating through their heads to one another.

_He would-… Rather __**die?**_

**Should I have said that to her?**

_Why would he say that?_

**Will she get the wrong idea?**

_But wouldn't it be better if he left me- if he didn't have to deal with my shit anymore?_

**What if she doesn't care, and just gives me to someone else, anyways?**

"Charon-…"

"Aimee," He looked at her pleadingly and gripped her shoulders. "I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to go with anyone else." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, Aimee felt like the blue irises of his eyes felt like icicles, piercing through her very body.

"_**As of the moment my heart monitor flat lines, you are free, Arin… You are a free man… You are free to love again."**_

"_I'm a terrible person for what I did to you… And maybe- maybe we should split up… I'm obviously not a good employer, I'm not taking care of you like I should. Maybe you'd be better off working for someone else. Or maybe you could be a free man again- and work for yourself."_

"_**Didn't you hear what I **_**said? I don't want to be free!"**

"Aimee, I don't want to be free."


	47. CHP 47: Happy Birthday, iWolfex!

**A/N: HEY EVERYONE! Well, you're probably wondering why I'm posting an early chapter :3 That is because today, a reader's birthday is today and I thought I'd post a new chapter of Another War For Your Textbooks as a small birthday present! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT iWOLFEX! And happy birthday, doll :D Honestly, it was by PURE coincidence that this chapter is ALSO Aimee's birthday... LOL xD**

**Anyways, before we get started there is one thing I need to clear up- the bobblehead I put in about two chapters ago (when Charon was searching for Aimee and pounced Harkness) is the WRONG BOBBLEHEAD. THAT'S THE ONE YOU GET IN VAULT 101. THE VAULT YOU GET FROM DR. LI IS THE INTELLIGENCE BOBBLEHEAD. Sorry guys, I'm stupid, I know D:**

**So, on with the show! I'll still post a new chapter on Saturday, so don't fret, and I hope all of you enjoy the chapter!**

**Happy reading, happy writing, and happy birthday iWolfex!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>Aimee creaked her eyes open slowly, almost feeling as if they were taped together in her sleep and she scrunched them back closed, moaning in reluctance to wake up. She was <em>so <em>exhausted, but not exhausted enough to return back to sleep. She curled her arms around her pillow tighter, drawing it to her chest and attempted to go back to sleep.

"Wake up, Glowworm."

The nickname immediately sent her eyes gaping _wide _open and she flew up in her bed, causing her pillow to go flying and hit Dogmeat in the head. He barked in surprise, looking to her with his tongue lolling out of his mouth from his spot on the dingy rug on the floor at her bedside.

"S- Sorry…" She murmured apologetically and shrugged, glancing over to where Charon sat. A small round table was placed in the corner of the room along with two chairs, and he was sitting in one of them as he laced up his boots and made sure they were snug before getting to his feet, staring at her with sharp blue eyes.

"Rise and shine," He nodded his head.

"Mo- Morning…" She murmured under her breath, blinking in surprise and clenched her bed sheet in her hands. "Did you- uh… Sleep well?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you up so _early?_" She yawned a wide-mouthed yawn.

Charon opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He closed his mouth again, probably thinking better of his answer. He looked to her Pip-Boy on her wrist (she had forgotten to take it off before going to sleep) and stepped over. Picking up her hand, he turned off the device, scrolled through it, and pointed down at the time interface.

"It- It's three in the _afternoon?_" Aimee exclaimed, horrified.

"Almost four, actually. It's 3:49." He nodded. "Were you up late?"

"No! I went to sleep the same time you did!" She cried, hopping out of her bed, stumbling over Dogmeat to avoid stepping on his tail, and ran to her backpack in the corner of the room by the door to pull out fresh clothes.

"…That _is _late, Glowworm."

"No it isn't!"

"I wait until _you _go to sleep before sleeping. Even then, that's a rare occurrence. I don't usually sleep."

"Liar! Everyone needs sleep!"

Charon gave a small shrug as Aimee pulled off her shirt and replaced it with the (relatively) clean one she removed from her bag. She then quickly pulled off her pants to put on baggy cargos (with Charon looking away to be decent) and rolled up the cuffs of the pants legs since they were too long for her. She quickly shoved her feet into her boots, not even bothering to lace them, and ran to the door.

"Where do you think _you're _going?" He asked over her shoulder, finally turning to look at her. She stopped and turned back to him when she was in the hallway.

"Who are you? My _father?_"

His eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance.

"…To Dr. Li." She answered meekly, fidgeting in place as she looked back down the hall. The day was so late already, she had to talk to Dr. Li _now-_ then hit the road to continue finding her father… She wasted so much time already- _too _much time already! Would Dr. Li even _remember _where her father had gone? Did her father even _meet _with the doctor while he was in Rivet City? Who was she to him, anyways?

"Mutt, stay here." Charon directed Dogmeat as he followed her to the door.

"Stay here!" She demanded half-heartedly.

"Glowworm-"

"I said _stay!_"

"_I'm not a __**dog,**_" He growled.

"Then don't growl like one!" She shot back, turning to dash down the hallway when he grabbed her shoulder.

"Calm down. I need to stay with you in case anyone gets any… _Ideas._"

"…You're kidding me, right?"

"Am I _smiling?_" He asked acidly.

"Okay, okay! _Jeeze! _I'll be careful, just stay here and hang out with Dogmeat. I'll be back in about an hour."

His eyes narrowed at Aimee again and she cringed.

"_Less _than an hour."

He wasn't taking that at _all_.

"…Half an hour?" She squeaked.

"_Aimee._" Shit, he wasn't being all cutesy with the nickname anymore… "The length of our argument could have been spent walking down to the science lab to speak with Dr. Li. We would have been on the mid-flight deck by now."

"Not even!" She cried.

"At the science lab door,"

"_Knock it off!_" She cried with some annoyance, eyes darting back down the hallway and she continued hopping from foot to foot anxiously.

A small smirk tugged at his lips. "It's late anyways. Come back inside and eat _something _first."

"No, I can eat afterwa-"

"_Please?_"

Aimee's eyes widened in disbelief at the words that parted from his cracked lips and she looked back at him, mouth dropping open. _Did he just-?..._

Now that she was completely awake, she cautiously teetered to the side and peered into their hotel room around his side through the doorway. On top of the round table where he was sitting a few moments ago, sat two dirty white boxes stacked up, one on top of the other. The one on the bottom was long and wide with greasy twine tying it up in a limp bow. The one on top was a _lot _smaller and shaped like a cube rather than a rectangle. That one was tied up with greasy twine, too.

They looked like… _Presents._

"Cha- Charon… Wha- What's _this _all about?" She looked back up at him, question swimming around in her eyes.

"It's been a while since you've called me "Char-bear," He commented offhandedly, ignoring her question.

"I thought you'd enjoy the temporary paradise of me calling you by your name," She smiled slightly.

"_Arin Bryne. That was my name before the Great War… A little afterward, too. But then it was changed."_

"_**Why?**__"_

"_When I went into contract training. They try to erase who you are- no ties to the past- so that the only memories you have are of the endless, torturous sessions… They weren't able to break me."_

Her eyes widened at the thought and she bit her lip, chewing on it nervously. He didn't seem to catch her sudden shift in mood, but she doubted that to be true and chalked it up to him noticing- just choosing not to say anything. He led her back into their hotel room and closed the door once she was inside.

"You didn't answer my question," Aimee motioned to the presents with a heave of a limp and lazy hand. "What's _this _about?"

"It's your birthday, isn't it?"

She gawked at him, shock brimming in her chest.

"…_What?_"

"Your birthday, correct? You said you were born around the Thanksgiving holiday? On November 18th?"

"Oh- Oh my God…" She clutched her hand to her throat, utterly _surprised _(and her heart lurched around in her chest while butterflies did the Waltz in her stomach) that he remembered- even though Charon's clear-cut memory was something to be expected. "You- You _didn't-!_"

Charon gave a simple nod and her beached-guppy expression was replaced with a giant smile as she squealed with delight and pounced at him, throwing her arms around his neck so she dangled there and hugged him tightly. He staggered back, almost bumping into the wall behind him but managed to gain back his footing- wrapping an arm around her waist so she wouldn't lose her grip on him.

"Char-bear you're _amazing!_ I- I can't believe you got me something!" Aimee felt like she was going to start crying.

The ghoul looked down at her, his sharp blue eyes flinching for a second as he briefly widened his eyes at her and then they softened.

"Are you-… _Crying?_"

She hadn't noticed that she _was _crying- she thought that she was just on the verge of tearing up, but she nodded and choked as she tried to strangle out a laugh. She wiped at the tears with her knuckle.

"I- I'm just so-… _happy!_" She exclaimed, hugging him tightly again. "Thank you, Char-bear!"

"…But you haven't even opened your presents yet. And they're not even that much."

"I don't care! They're from you, and that makes them the most valuable things I could ever have!" She squealed, releasing him so she could pummel back the tears from her big, grey eyes with the back of her hands and she sniffled loudly.

"Well, open them. We'll have breakfast and go down to Dr. Li_ Together._ Okay?" He helped her wipe the tears away by bringing his hand to her face, cradling her jaw as his thumb caressed her cheek to remove them. Her heart began pounding in her ears.

She nodded awkwardly, having no qualm over him coming along now and turned to the round table, plopping down and grabbed at the small box on top of the large rectangular one. She wanted to give it a shake and guess what it was, as she did that a _lot _when she was younger. It was a game she and her father frequently played when it was either one of their birthdays. The winner was given the power to make the loser do whatever he or she wanted them to do, and it was her favorite game to play with him, out of the many games they played with one another. The reason why she _kept _from shaking the box was because on the off-chance that whatever lay in it was _delicate,_ she didn't want to risk breaking it. She quickly pulled the greasy twine free, tossed it back onto the table and tore the box open by the lid. She gapped down into it, face lighting up with her beaming smile and she squealed louder than when she did only moments ago when she pounced on him.

"Oh my God, _Charon!_" She cried, coming to tears again, pulling out the Vault Boy bobble head that was wearing a graduates cap and had glasses on. She flicked at his head with her forefinger, watching it tremble before slowly settling down. She turned it over, reading the inscription on the bottom.

"**_It takes the smartest individuals to realize there's always more to learn."_**

That sounded like something her dad would say... And as if on cue, her father's voice suddenly played in her head.

"_**Revelation 21:6. **__I am Alpha, and Omega. The beginning, and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely."_

Aimee smiled and said her mother's favorite biblical passage out loud.

"_Revelation 21:6…_ I am Alpha, and Omega. The beginning, and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely."

"And he said unto me, they are come to pass. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely." Charon recited, causing her to snap her head up.

"_Huh?_"

"You said Revelation 21:6, correct?"

"Ye- Yeah… How did you-?"

"I was a man of God before the war." He nodded his head at her as he plopped down in his chair at the table, across from her. "That was the verse I was taught in Church. There are many different revisions of it."

"I see…" She murmured, looking down at the bobble head in her possession- another one to add to her collection. "Is that your favorite passage?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "_Genesis 3:17; _and unto Adam he said; _Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying; __**Thou shalt not eat of it: **__cursed is the ground for their sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life._"

Aimee's eyes widened in bewilderment and she set down her bobble head to give him her undivided attention.

"_Genesis 3:18; _thorns and thistles shall it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field._ Genesis 3:19; _in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken; for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."

A small smile creeped into her face. "Charon, that was-… _that was-_"

"Yes?"

"_Beautiful._" Her grin deepened.

Charon nodded his head in thanks and gestured to her remaining present. "Hurry up so we can eat. I'm starving."

"Fine, _fine-_ Mr. _Bossy!_" She scolded with a lighthearted giggle and put her bobble head back inside the box, pushing it towards him to bring her second, and final, gift forward. Making short work of the twine, she tore off the lid (and it ripped in half with how excited she was getting) and her eyes widened to giant saucers on her face at what lay before her.

It was a combat shotgun, in prestigious condition- little scratches and nicks here and there but none of them were really noticeable, all the pieces looked clean and barely used… And on the stock of it did a little charm dangle, a cutesy red heart from a thin string, which was stapled into the wood.

"Oh. My. _**God.**_"

"Like it?"

"It- It's like Samuel!" Damnit, how many times was this _bastard _going to make her _cry?_ "But better! It looks so new, like it hasn't really been used before!"

"I bought a shotgun from the marketplace and fixed it up myself. Cleaned down the pieces, pieced it back together and everything. Thought you'd like the charm- if not, I can easily pull it out."

"N- No, I-… I _love _it, Char-bear." She got up and went over to him, leaning over to hug him around the neck again, tightly. "_Thank you…_ These are the best gifts I have ever gotten, from _anyone._"

"Hmn. Well, that's a shame."

"Huh? _Why?_"

"I had one or two more for you, but seeing as how you're already _content _with what I gave you…" A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. An _actual _smile. Aimee's heart began beating rapidly in her chest again, and a light pink blush came to her face.

_Good grief, I could die happy now!_

"Gimmie, gimmie!" She exclaimed like the small child she was, snapping her grubby little paws at him and he swat her away with a low chuckle and got up. He went to his bag, opened it, and pulled out two more boxes and something else wrapped in dirty, singed newspaper. He handed all three to her.

"Sorry about the wrapping. Couldn't find a nice pattern, and the wrapping shop was closed." His serious and impassive tone as he cracked his joke only had Aimee snorting herself into a giggle-fit before she sat back down to open up her other presents.

The first box was thin, wide, and rectangular- inside was a pair of cushioned shoe insoles he found while they were scavenging the metro tunnels on their way to Rivet City. Charon said he found them in one of the industrial lockers, and he noticed how easily she gained blisters and stomped her feet sometimes when she walked, so he thought she'd enjoy some cushion in her step. She hugged him and went onto the next present.

The second box was thick and a little wide, but still small- inside was a necklace and matching set of clip-on earrings that he _also _found while they were scavenging a long time ago- it was still in the wrapping paper, too! Shiny blue with a silver bow. He said he found it in one of the homes they raided back in Minefield before they left to return to Moira. She hugged him even tighter than the first time, they shared a quick moment of reminiscing through the event (Aimee more-so terrified than he when she remembered that he was shot in the shoulder by the old sniper), and she went onto the last present.

The wrapped in newspaper gift was quickly torn open- and inside lay a book, thick with intact pages. It was called _**The Princess and the Barbarian **_by Betina Krahn- a love story between a stubborn princess, unwilling to marry who slowly falls in love with a roguishly charming barbarian.

Aimee was moved to choked sniveling and hiccupping tears and whimpers when all her presents were opened, and she wouldn't let go of Charon for a good solid five minutes.

Why?

Because this was the first birthday she had spent out in the Wasteland, and when she first came out of the Vault and into the sunlight, she believed she was to spend it alone- or worse- _dead._ She was happier than words could depict that she _was _here, alive and well, to celebrate the two decades she walked the Earth.

But what made it all the worth-while was being able to share it with Charon- the only man alive who was ever able to make her heart dance and her stomach flutter.

As Charon got up to begin making breakfast, seeing as how there was no point in wasting caps to go out and eat when they had enough food in their bags already, Aimee stared at her new combat shotgun from the corner of her eyes. She smiled softly and fingered the heart charm.

"You're gonna name it, aren't you?" The ghoul asked when he came back over with two boxes of Fancy Lads Cake Snacks and a bottle of purified water to share.

"Of course I am!" She turned her soft smile to him, which turned into a sheepish grin. "Any ideas?"

"Why not name it after your last shotgun, Samuel?"

"Eh, Samuel and I had a good run… I think I'll name her something else."

"_Her?_"

"Yeah! I don't have enough girl names for my weapons!" She pouted, folding her arms across her chest.

"You have Elaine your SMG, Patience your flaming sword, and Bethanie- your baseball bat." He quirked a brow muscle at her, biting into his first cake.

"…Shuddup. _Fine_ it'll be a boy!" Aimee concluded, picking up the gun to run her hand over the stock of it, continuing her play with the heart charm.

"I didn't say it had to be a boy," Charon spoke after swallowing.

"Well, I know _just _what I'm going to call him!" She beamed, smiling up at him.

"Oh yeah?"

She nodded and hugged the combat shotgun to her chest.

"I'm gonna name him Char-bear!"

The ghoul smacked his hand to his forehead, and Aimee burst out into another giggle-fit.


End file.
